Reese (12 page)

"Maybe if you had more men than they do, men who could fight that is, they might cut their losses and run."

"What if we had more women?"

"Huh?"

"More women. If you taught the women how to shoot, then there'd be more of us than there are of them."

"I don't think El Diablo would be frightened of women."

"Why is a woman with a gun any less frightening than a man with one?"

"They just are. Hell, Mary, you couldn't even stomach the sight of a man I killed. How do you expect to kill one yourself?"

"I'm not going to kill one. I'm just going to make them think that I will."

He groaned. "That'll never work. Half of being tough is actually being that way. Once or twice you're going to have to shoot somebody, or no one will ever take you seriously."

Mary bit her lip. She'd so hoped she'd found a solution to their dilemma. But if she actually had to kill someone . . .

That might be a problem.

Chapter 7

A knock on Reese's door had Mary scrambling away, rearranging her bodice, then rubbing at the scratches he'd made on her skin with his ravenous mouth. Reese pulled her behind him, but he needn't have worried that the intruder would walk in. A closed door was sacred between men. You never knew what you might discover behind one.

"Reese," Jed growled. "It's your watch."

Jed stamped down the hall to his room. Reese wanted to stamp too. How could he have forgotten his watch and have to be reminded like a child with chores?

"Can you help me find my hairpins?" Mary asked.

That's how he'd forgotten. Understandable but stupid. The woman was driving him to distraction.

Afraid he'd grab her again and finish what she'd started, instead Reese bent and picked up the pins he'd torn from her hair. He held them out to her, but she didn't take them.

Finally, Reese had to look up and found himself trapped again in the wonder of Mary. The prim set to her lips contrasted with the full, ripe swell he'd put upon them. And that hair—curling wild and free, scented like rain, shaded like sun—made him dream improper things in the middle of the night.

He was falling fast, and he'd better pull himself back right quick. She was not for him and never could be—no matter how much he wanted her, no matter how much she wanted him. She had no idea where this was leading—raised by nuns, for crying out loud! He might be any number of things, but he did not destroy innocence.

At least not anymore.

Reese placed the pins into her hand and closed her fingers around them. He nodded to the washstand with the cracked mirror on the wall. "You can use that if you need to."

She didn't speak, just went and stood in front of the mirror. Reese hunted for his socks and boots, then sat on the bed to finish dressing for his watch. When he glanced at Mary, he froze with a boot in each hand.

The domesticity of the scene made a sudden longing for a past that was dead, and a future that would never be shoot through his belly with such force he became dizzy.

Mary's eyes met his in the mirror. Their gazes held, and temptation beckoned. He could have her. Here. Now. On this bed. No one would blame him.

Except for himself.

Reese tore his gaze from hers and shoved his feet into his boots. "Come on," he said. "I'll walk you home on my way to the church."

She nodded, docile for a change. She hadn't said much of anything since he'd pointed out she might have to kill someone if he taught her how to use a gun.

He gave a snort of amusement and opened the door for her. Mary had guts; he'd give her that much. More courage than any man in this town.

Together they descended to the kitchen, where Rico had taken over for Jed. A single glare from Reese had the Kid snapping his big mouth shut before he nodded politely to Mary.

Reese would no doubt be in for some teasing from Rico and Cash, lectures from Jed, silence from Sullivan, and glares from Nate for his behavior tonight. No matter what he told them, they would think he'd taken the amazing Miss McKendrick to his bed.

And while he shouldn't care what they thought as long as they did their jobs, he didn't want them thinking any less of her because he appeared unable to keep his brain out of his pants whenever she was around.

Outside, she kept her distance, creating no opportunity for him to put his hand against her back, as a gentleman should. He couldn't say he blamed her. He hadn't acted like much of a gentleman. More like a beast. But she'd waved off his apology, and he wouldn't offer another. The best apology would be to make certain he never touched her again.

Maybe he
should
teach every able-bodied person in Rock Creek how to use a gun. Then he and his men might be able to leave more quickly. Reese glanced at Mary and remembered the taste of her skin, the scent of her hair.

As each hour passed, leaving sounded better and better.

They reached her porch. Reese paused, clasping his hands behind his back, out of temptation's way. Mary kept hers behind her back too. Temptation seemed a familiar foe to them both.

"Good night, Reese. Think about what I asked, won't you?"

He nodded. She might be on to something with her "more women" defense. He would think on it while he sat in the steeple. Better than thinking about his lips at her neck and his tongue between her breasts.

"Night," he ground out before he turned and practically ran to the church. Only when he reached the room with the bell did he glance down. She still stood outside in the darkness.

The need to go to her hit him so hard he leaned his head against the cool stone wall. By the time he lifted it again she was gone.

"She gets to you." Sullivan lurked in the shadow of the bell.

Reese straightened from the window, pulled out a cigarette, and cupped his hands to light it against the wind, taking his time as he thought about what to say.

He blew out a long stream of smoke, lifted one shoulder, then lowered it. "I've been without a woman a long while."

"She's not that kind of woman."

"They're all that kind of woman."

Sullivan snorted. "Now you sound like Cash."

"You better watch the insults."

Reese offered Sullivan a cigarette, then a light. Sullivan was the closest thing Reese had to a friend, mainly because the man liked to chat less than Reese did.

Sullivan blew a line of smoke out the window, watched as it disappeared on the wind, then turned the glowing cigarette about in his fingers like a worry stone.

"Spit it out," Reese growled. "I know when you've got somethin' gnawin' at your gut."

Sullivan peered at him from between the long dark strands of his hair. "What you could have with her might replace what you lost."

Reese stiffened. This was a direction he did not want to take. "What do you think I lost?"

"I dunno." Sullivan held up a hand, palm outward. "And you don't want to tell me. That's fine. I've got things I'm not tellin' you, either. That's why we all get along so well. We accept one another for who we are now and to hell with what went before."

"Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Someday you're gonna have to trust someone."

"I trust you."

"Not completely. You don't trust anyone because you don't want us to get too close. You lead, we follow, and that's okay with us. We're getting what we want, but are you?"

Reese disliked the path of the conversation more and more as they went farther down it. "You know I've never heard you put this many sentences together in one day."

"Not sure I have. You want to answer my question?"

"Am I getting what I want? That's a query for children. Men know that we rarely get what we want, but eventually we all get what we deserve."

"And what is it you think that you deserve?"

Reese flicked the stub of his cigarette out the window and watched it tumble, end over end, toward the ground. When the red ember winked out, he turned. "Death, of course. What else is there for a man like me?"

Though Sullivan was as dark as the night around him, still Reese could see the shadow of anger cross his face. "A man like you? Honorable, intelligent, a leader. Oh, yeah, let me find my gun and end it for you now."

"Shut up, Sullivan. You don't know what I've done."

"And you know what? I don't give a shit. And I don't think any of the others do, either. I doubt the woman you kissed tonight cared about anything but the kissing."

"How do you know I kissed her?"

"I can smell her all over you."

"Hell."

Sullivan grinned. "Ain't it just?"

"You think this is funny?"

"Yep."

"I'm not going to kiss her again."

"Uh-huh."

"You don't believe me?"

"Nope."

Reese scowled. "I hope I'm around to see it when a woman makes an idiot out of you."

Sullivan's smirk disappeared. "You'll be waitin' a long time. No woman's going to make an idiot out of me."

"What makes you special?"

"The kind of women who let me touch them aren't the kind a man makes a fool of himself over." Reese opened his mouth to protest, but Sullivan shook his head. "I know who I am. In this country a half-breed is only half a man, and in Texas, half-Comanche means all animal."

"I don't think that."

"And you wonder why I keep comin' whenever you call? Maybe you should look at the men who follow you and wonder why they do. Maybe then you'll see that wantin' to die made you an idiot long before you ever came to Rock Creek."

With that parting shot, Sullivan lifted his rifle over his shoulder and left Reese alone with the night.

* * *

Reese observed a lot of things from the steeple that evening. Amazing, since his gaze returned to the light in Mary's window every other minute, that he saw anything at all. Either the woman didn't sleep or she left a lamp burning in the parlor all night long. Was she afraid of the dark? Or did she think he was?

Reese had heard of some men that came away from the war unable to sleep without a light burning. He wasn't one of them. What he'd survived, both in the light of day and the dead of night, had left him with the knowledge that the least of his worries was the darkness.

Coyotes—or maybe Comanches—howled in the distance. Reese never could tell one from the other when they howled, which he guessed was the idea. A great cat squalled in the basin of the river. If Reese heard that again, he'd consider sending Sullivan after it. A cougar did not belong so close to a town filled with women and children.

Within Rock Creek, shadows darted as well. Most he did not recognize. But as long as they weren't on horseback and coming from outside the town, Reese figured folks could prowl about all they wished.

Some of the shadows he did know. The preacher's daughter strolled past from the direction of the hotel. Reese would be having a little talk with Nate. One man playing the fool was enough on this trip. He didn't need Nate impregnating Clancy's daughter, though from what Reese had seen of Miss Clancy, she might remove Nate's impregnating tool with a rusty spoon if he tried it. She could take care of herself. Which was lucky, since her father obviously didn't have the skills.

Just before dawn, twin shadows emerged from the shopkeeper's back window. When Reese saw the fishing poles, he cursed and hustled down from the steeple. Most cougars would not remain at a human watering hole once the sun broke the horizon, but Reese wasn't going to bet the lives of two children, however horrific the little brats were, on the behavior of a wild animal.

The town awakened as Reese hurried down the street. Most people stared at him with wide eyes, ignoring his nod and the polite thumbing of his hat. Did the guns frighten them? Or just the man who owned them?

He caught up to the boys before they reached the outskirts of Rock Creek. "Hey," he said, then faltered when the two glanced at him. Their matching straw-brown hair, wide blue eyes, and crooked teeth sent him back in time. He'd forgotten how much they reminded him of—

"No fishing today," he snapped.

Their faces scrunched into identical expressions of mutiny. "You aren't our pa."

"Thank God," Reese muttered, then took a deep breath so he could explain. He'd known boys like these two, and you needed to explain every little thing. "Heard a cougar at the river last night. You two ought to stay away till we get rid of it."

"Aw, that cat's been drinkin' out of the river as long as we've been fishin' there. He never comes round after sunup."

"Still, I'd feel better if you didn't fish today."

"Are you gonna make us go home?"

"I'd rather you went on your own. But if I have to make you..." He shrugged.

"You know it was a lot more fun livin' here before you showed up."

"I hear that all the time."

The two went toward the store, dragging their feet and their fishing poles. Reese felt as if he'd just kicked a puppy. Or told them St. Nick wasn't coming at Christmas.

Well, better that than picking up pieces of Jack and Frank all over the place..

Reese returned to the hotel, dragging his own feet. His mood did not improve when he walked into the kitchen to find he'd missed breakfast. Luckily, there was coffee left or he'd have shot somebody.