Relentless (6 page)

“I know,” Miss Gertrude sympathized. “Your mother used to say the same thing about him. He’s a man who loves adventure.”

“Yes, he is,” Dusty agreed, and she realized then that she truly was her father’s daughter. As much as she’d enjoyed dressing up that evening and attending the dance, she honestly felt more like herself
when she was working with her father on the stage. She glanced around, realizing then that she hadn’t seen him for a while, and she wondered where he’d gone. She was about to excuse herself and go look for him when the ladies’ choice dance ended, and Ted Anderson sought her out.

“Come on, Dusty,” the ranch hand said. “It’s time I got a dance with you tonight! See you later, ladies,” he told the elderly women as he whisked Dusty away.

“You’d
better
see me later, Ted,” Miss Gertrude teasingly called after him. “I’m expecting to dance with you myself!”

“I’ll be back for you real soon, Miss Gertrude!” he promised.

“I’m counting on it, young man!”

Betty couldn’t help laughing at her outrageous friend. There was never a dull moment when Miss Gertrude was around, that was for sure, and that was why she loved her so much.

“You’re doing some serious drinking tonight, ain’t you?” remarked Sam, the bartender at the Trail’s End, as he poured Charley yet another straight shot of his best whiskey. Rowdy cowboys had been coming in all night, and Sam was used to their behavior, but he knew it was unusual for Charley to drink so heavily.

“Sometimes a man just needs some good whiskey,” Charley said, downing the liquor and shoving the glass back across the bar for another refill.

“What’s on your mind?” Sam knew Charley had to be troubled about something, for he’d been drinking steadily ever since he’d come in almost an hour before.

“Nothing.” His answer was terse.

Sam knew then there was no point in trying to get more out of him. “Aren’t you heading out again soon?”

“In the morning—early,” Charley muttered. Then forgetting his determination to keep the news of the payroll he was carrying quiet, he offered, “I’ve got a
big payroll to transport on this run, so we’re taking an extra guard with us.”

“Good. You be careful.”

“We will be.”

Sam went to wait on some wild cowboys who’d just come in while Charley continued drinking. This was the first time Sam had heard of Charley carrying a payroll. He found the news interesting.

There was a stranger who’d been drinking quietly at the far end of the bar. He’d heard Charley’s mention of the payroll and thought the news was interesting, too. Without drawing any attention to himself, he finished off his drink and left the bar, disappearing into the night.

Grant could hear the sounds of music and revelry as he rode slowly down the main street of Canyon Springs, and he realized something was going on that night. He knew he’d have to check it out eventually, but first he wanted to stop at the saloon. He believed Jackson and his gang would be more likely to be drinking than dancing—if they’d made it to town already.

Grant had taken off his Ranger badge before he’d reached town. For now, he wanted to blend in and go unnoticed. Les Jackson, Ugly Joe Williams and Cale Pierce were in the area or would be real soon, and he was going to be ready and waiting for them.

Reining in near the Trail’s End, Grant tied up his horse and stood there for a moment just looking
around. Other than the big dance that was going on, the streets seemed quiet enough, so he moved on toward the saloon. He glanced in the window before entering, wanting to make sure he wasn’t in for any surprises, but he saw no sign of the gang. Glad to have a chance to relax for at least a little while, he went in, more than ready for a drink.

“What’ll it be?” Sam asked as he moved to wait on the tall, lean stranger who’d just come to stand at the bar.

“Whiskey,” Grant told him, taking note of his surroundings. There were several men drinking at the bar, a few gaudily dressed saloon girls working the tables, and some gamblers playing poker in the back of the room. It looked like a typical Friday night in any saloon, though not quite as crowded as it could be.

Sam quickly set a glass before him and filled it with the potent liquor. “You just ride in?”

“Yeah.” Grant paid the bartender and took a deep drink. “Looks like you’ve got some excitement going on tonight.”

“It’s the dance down at the hall. The boys look forward to this one all year. Business is a little slow now, but it’ll pick up later.”

“I’ll have to head over and have some fun myself.”

“You’ll find lots of pretty girls,” Sam assured him, wondering what business the new man had there in Canyon Springs. “You just passing through or are you planning to stay a while?”

“I haven’t really decided yet. Is there a hotel in town?”

“Just two blocks down,” Sam answered as he went to wait on other customers.

Grant took his time finishing his drink. After the long ride in, he would have enjoyed just staying there and drinking for the rest of the night, but it was too soon to let his guard down completely. He had to take a look around at the dance and make sure he really had beaten Jackson and his men to town.

Grant left the saloon a few minutes later. After taking care of his horse, he got his gear and went down to the hotel to find a place to stay. As he let himself into his room, he was glad to see the hotel was a clean one. The thought of finally sleeping in a real bed later that night definitely appealed to him after all the nights on the trail. Knowing it was getting late and he didn’t have a lot of time, he quickly washed his face and hands and changed shirts before heading over to the dance.

Francie and Dusty were both trying to catch their breath after a particularly rousing dance when Mark Wagner and Paul Stanford, two hands from a nearby ranch, approached them.

“C’mon, Francie,” Paul said, taking her by the arm. “This dance is mine!”

Paul was good-looking enough, but Francie could smell the liquor on him and wanted to decline.

“Well, I was—”

“Come on, little honey. We’re going to have us a good time.”

She had no chance to avoid him as he pulled her out onto the dance floor.

Dusty had sensed her friend’s hesitation, but before she could do anything, Mark grabbed her. Dusty knew Mark was a real bad dancer, so she had to pay attention and concentrate on avoiding injury as he took her in his arms.

Paul had had his eye on Francie for some time now. He knew her family had money, so he was thinking she’d be a good catch for a poor cowboy. He planned to maneuver her outside away from the hall and set about seriously trying to woo her tonight. He had to admit he had been surprised by how pretty Dusty looked tonight. He hadn’t seen her wearing a dress in quite a while, but that didn’t matter to him. He was after money, and that came with Francie.

The tune was a rousing one, and Paul grinned. The lively dancing would make it easier to get Francie over to the far side of the room, away from her parents.

Francie knew Paul was dancing a little wildly, but she attributed that to the liquor he’d been drinking. She managed to keep up with him and keep a smile on her face at the same time. As awkward as she was feeling with Paul, she knew Dusty had it much worse with Mark. She’d already danced with Mark once tonight and had a sore toe to prove it.

“C’mon,” Paul said in a low voice, and in one
quick move he managed to whirl her right out the back door.

“Paul—what are you doing?”

“I thought a little cool night air might feel good right now. What about you?” he asked, keeping hold of her hand as he drew her away from the light of the hall and into the surrounding darkness.

“I really need to get back inside. My parents will be wondering where I’ve gone. They’ll worry about me.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, darling,” he said, stopping and smiling down at her now that they were out of sight. “You’re with me.”

“This is most—”

She never got to finish her sentence. Paul pulled her close and kissed her, his mouth covering hers in a hungry, sloppy, devouring kiss.

Francie had long fantasized about a romantic embrace in the dark shadows of the night. She’d imagined being swept off her feet by her hero, who would declare his love and propose. Never in all her fairy-tale daydreams had she dreamed that the man kissing her would smell like whiskey or be so rough with her.

Paul felt her resistance, but that only made him tighten his grip on her. He was confident his romantic ways would win her over.

“Let me go—” she gasped when she finally managed to break off the kiss.

“You know you’re lovin’ it,” he told her, pulling her tightly against him again.

“No, I’m not!” Francie hissed, trying to twist away from him. “Stop it!”

“Aw, honey—”

“Don’t—”

“You heard what Francie said. Let her go,” Rick directed. He’d been on his way over to ask Francie for another dance, but the ranch hand had gotten to her first. He had been disappointed, but had planned to claim her for the next one, until he’d seen Paul all but drag her out the back door. He’d known then something was wrong.

Paul was angered by the interruption. He kept a tight hold on Francie as he looked up at the other man. “This ain’t none of your business, banker man, so go on back inside.”

“I’m making it my business.” Rick moved closer, wanting to be sure she was unharmed. “Francie, are you all right?”

Paul tightened the grip he had on her arms as he muttered to her in a low voice, “Don’t say a word.”

“Paul, please, I want to go back inside,” she insisted, trying to avoid trouble.

“We’re staying here,” he countered.

“I said let her go,” Rick repeated. He could tell now the man had been drinking, and though he didn’t want a fight, he would do what he had to do to get Francie away from the cowhand and keep her safe.

“She’s with me. Get lost,” Paul snarled. Just to prove his point, he yanked her hard against him and kissed her again.

Francie almost gagged at his hot, disgusting kiss.

Rick saw her trying to resist, and he reacted instantly. Grabbing Francie, he tore her free of the drunken cowboy’s grip before taking a swing at the man and knocking him to the ground.

Francie was trembling in fear as Rick went to her.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, tender concern in his voice.

“No—I—Thank you—”

He put his arm around her shoulders and started to guide her back to the safety of the hall.

Paul had been caught off guard by the banker’s attack, but now he was furious. There was no way he was going to let that banker man get away with stealing the girl he wanted. He lurched to his feet, wiping the blood from his mouth as he went after them, determined to take his revenge.

“How did you know I needed you?” Francie was saying as she looked up at Rick with wide-eyed wonder.

Rick smiled down at her, glad that she hadn’t been injured in any way. “I was on my way to ask you to dance, but Paul got to you first. I was keeping an eye on you so I could—”

He never got to finish. Paul attacked, launching himself at Rick and shoving Francie forcefully aside.

Shocked by the sudden, unexpected attack, Francie cried out as she fell to the ground.

A few people standing near the door heard her cry and looked outside, trying to see what was going on.

“Fight! There’s a fight going on!” one of the men shouted.

Mark had seen Rick follow Paul and Francie outside, so he was pretty sure what was going on.

“That must be Paul—” Mark said to Dusty. Without a thought, he deserted Dusty in the middle of the dance floor and ran outside to see if his friend needed any help.

Dusty looked around and, realizing there was no sign of Francie anywhere inside, she hurried after Mark.

The musicians kept playing, hoping to distract everyone, but a crush of people hurried toward the door.

Dusty found herself trapped behind the crowd, unable to get outside to help her friend.

Meanwhile, outside the hall, Rick was outraged that Paul had so brutally shoved Francie aside, and he feared she might have been injured by the assault. He was holding his own with the drunken ranch hand until Mark joined in, and the two men teamed up on him. When they began to overpower Rick, Francie got up and started to run to the hall to get help, but she didn’t get very far. Paul hit Rick savagely, knocking him to the ground and then went after Francie, catching her before she could escape.

“As I recall, this was our dance—” he said, leering down at her and enjoying the look of fear in her eyes as Mark continued the fight with Rick.

“Let her go—”

The unexpected order came out of nowhere.

Paul froze at the sound of the commanding voice. He had no idea who was there, and he looked around in shock as a complete stranger stepped forward from the shadows.

Grant had been on his way to the dance when he’d heard a woman cry out. He’d thought she sounded as if she was in danger, and he had immediately headed in her direction. Now Grant rested his hand on his gun to let the troublemakers know he meant business as he faced them down.

Paul usually wouldn’t have listened to anyone ordering him around, but there was something about the stranger’s commanding and intimidating presence that stopped him in his tracks. That, and the way the stranger’s hand rested so familiarly on his gun. Paul took a step backward, but he didn’t release Francie. In fact, his hold on her tightened.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me—” Grant repeated threateningly as he moved even closer. “I told you to let her go.”

Francie stared up at the stranger in complete surprise. She didn’t know who he was, but she was thrilled he’d showed up at this moment. She sensed Paul’s sudden uncertainty about the situation, and she took full advantage of it, tearing herself free of his hold and distancing herself from him.

Mark had managed to knock Rick to the ground again, and he looked over in his friend’s direction now to see what was going on. He, too, was surprised by the unknown man’s interference. He
turned on the stranger and thought about going for his own gun, just to show him who was in control of the situation.

“Don’t do it,” Grant dictated. He’d dealt with this kind before and knew exactly what the other drunk was thinking.

“Who are you?” Paul demanded, still not backing down.

But before Grant could answer him, the crowd that had been watching from the doorway parted, and Grant saw an older man come rushing outside, followed closely by two women.

“What’s going on out here?” Fred demanded, rightfully outraged by the sight that greeted him. “Francie?”

She ran to her father as he looked from the two drunken cowboys to the stranger, who had gone to help Rick to his feet.

“Oh, Papa—Paul forced me out here with him and Rick came to help me—” She hurried over to Rick’s side as he stood with the other man. “Thank heaven, this gentleman showed up when he did.” Francie looked up at the tall, darkly handsome man, wondering who he was. She knew she would have remembered him if she’d seen him before.

Fred turned on Paul, his manner menacing. “Don’t you ever go near my daughter again! Do you understand me?”

Paul ignored the older man as he faced the stranger. “I ain’t done with you yet, stranger—”