The Renegades: Cole (21 page)

“Did he say where he was headed?”

“Said the owl hoot trail.”

He turned to face her again.

“He said t’ tell you he’d give his right arm to change things if it would. Said Gates had him plumb trapped into followin’ his orders or gettin’ hanged fer somethin’ Skeeter done a long time ago. He heerd them shots you all was throwin’ around and he lit outta here like a scalded hound.”

“For all Skeeter knew, these men could’ve died in the fight and he could’ve gone on like before with none of us the wiser.”

“Nope. Said he’d druther ride the coulees than live another day all wire-edged and walkin’ the fence.”

The hollow feeling inside her grew larger and larger. Skeeter was gone. Skeeter was guilty. There was nothing she could do about him.

“Want us to carry this bunch back to the trees and have a little necktie party, Miss Aurora?” Monte said. “Now that Skeeter ain’t amongst ‘em?”

“No!” she said, more fiercely than she’d intended. “We’ll take them to the law.”

She turned and rode away from them all, around behind her wagon, and stopped in its shade. After a moment, she stepped down and
then just stood there, leaning her forehead against Shy Boy’s sweaty shoulder.

“So Skeeter’s gone,” Cole said.

She whirled to look at him, tears welling up at the sympathy in his voice.

“At least he had a
reason
,” she said. “At least he was trying to save himself and not stealing from me out of greed.”

“I reckon that’s right,” he said softly and looked at her closely before he swung down off his horse.

Oh, dear God, if only he would hold her! She needed the comfort of his iron arms around her and his hard chest beneath her cheek like she had never needed anything else in all her life. He walked straight toward her.

“But you have to see it plain, what he did to you, and not cut him too much slack,” he said. “Remember how tough you have to be if you’re going to carve a ranch out of nothing.”

She managed a shaky smile.

“I know. It’s just that Skeeter always …”

He opened his arms and she went into them, into the hard circle of comfort that his body closed around her. She laid her cheek on his chest and wanted, with all her being, to melt against him, into him.

But he wasn’t holding her that way.

“You can’t be sentimental,” he said. “In the future you’ll have to hire men you don’t know, so you must judge them with clear eyes.”

The trembling she’d felt earlier came back
through her, and she nearly froze. How could she
do
it alone?

Suddenly it sounded entirely overwhelming, the thought of hiring strange men, riding herd on the cattle, building some kind of shelter for her and her men, and shooting outlaws and rustlers on top of it all. She didn’t even know a decent
location
for her new ranch—what if it had to be in a place that was hard to defend?

“Oh, Cole,” she said, “I don’t know if I can handle it all.”

“Yes, you can. You’ve come too far to back out now if you wanted to. And you don’t want to. Building a ranch of your own is entirely possible.”

“But how can you say that? You had to do most of the shooting today, although I did do a little. The crew is taking care of the cattle—I’m scouting, yes, but I’m not herding or branding or cooking …”

She was on the verge of bursting into sobs, but he wouldn’t let her. He took her chin in his hand, turned her face up to his, and fixed her with a straight, stern look.

“… what if I had to try to do it all myself?”

“You couldn’t. Neither could a man rancher. Don’t let this one traitor make you think your whole crew’ll leave you. They’re decent men. They’ll stick until you can replace them if they want to go—and don’t think that’s special treatment because you’re a woman. It’d be the same with a man.”

Already, the helpless feeling was leaving her.

“Sometimes I just think what in the world have I done, dragging these cattle and this crew—and you—way out here to go even farther down the trail, risking everybody’s lives without even knowing what we’ll find when we get to the Panhandle.”

“We know we’ll find grass and plenty of room,” he said, still holding her with that sharp look. “Listen to me. You’ve made the right decisions, time after time. You’ve proved you can defend yourself—and without letting go of your first rustler to boot!”

She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat.

“That’s what spooked my mount. I should’ve turned the other horse loose but I couldn’t uncurl my fingers from around those reins.”

“Now you’re talking, Rory. Never give up a prisoner.”

The nickname sent a thrill running through her. No one else had ever called her Rory.

“Cole,” she said, “thanks for encouraging me. And thanks for not saying ‘I told you so’ about Skeeter.”

“Never,” he said. “You lost a friend.”

That made her tears well up and spill over. She fought them back and resolved not to think about Skeeter any more.

“So you really think I can do it?”

“I know you can. You’re fractious today because of the gunplay and the blood and your own cowboy betraying you. But that’s why I’m trying to toughen you up, because this is real,
it’s the way life is. Don’t worry, you can ride it to a standstill.”

“Not so long ago you were telling me to sell the herd.”

“Because of days like this. You could’ve been killed. My God, Rory,” he said, and he tightened his arms around her, opened his stance just a fraction to pull her closer in, “you could’ve been captured and … mishandled.”

She shivered. She hadn’t even thought of that.

“I’d hate so bad to see you hurt,” he said in that low, slow drawl that poured pure heat all the way to her bones.

Without thinking, she clung to his slender waist, came up onto tiptoe to bring her mouth nearer his.

But he didn’t bend to kiss her. He wanted to, though. She could feel it.

“But if any woman can build a ranch in the Panhandle of Texas, you’re the one,” he said, looking deep into her eyes. “You’re a strong woman. Now it’s time to get stronger.”

She shook her head.

“This is the biggest irony. Remember the first conversation we ever had? You have completely switched sides, Cole McCord.”

He gave her his mischievous grin.

“That’s because it’s too late for me to back out now.”

She stayed where she was, but still he made no move.

“You’re too far from home down the trail with your fate in my hands, is that it?”

“Right,” he said, flashing that grin again as if he’d never wanted to kiss her in his entire life. “That’s why I want you strong and savvy.”

“And sassy, too?”

She tilted her head and smiled up at him in her most flirtatious way, letting her gaze wander from his eyes to his lips, waiting for him to kiss her. They had never felt so close. At least he surely would
kiss
her!

But when he took her shoulders in both his big hands he set her a step away from him instead of pulling her up to take her mouth with his.

“Remember what you said today about me being a salty shooter?”

“Yes, Lightning, I remember.”

He smiled but quickly went solemn again.

“That’s what I am,” he said fiercely. “That’s
all
I am. Don’t be thinking I’m more.”

A cold wind blew through her.

“So that proves you’re bad, is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

He gave that quick, abrupt nod of authority that always made his silences more commanding than other men’s words.

She looked at his strong, brown hands on her shoulders, at the right one, then at the left.

“And holding me away from you when I want to kiss you and hug your neck as I would any other friend is … what? A noble gesture? If you’re really bad, Shoots-Like-Striking-Lightning,
you’d throw me to the ground and ravish me right here like you’re wanting to do.”

The fleeting glint of shock in his eyes made her raise her eyebrows in triumph, but he wouldn’t acknowledge it.

“You and I are as far from being like any other friends,” he growled, “as a badger is from a bear. You know that.”

“I know you’re not bad,” she said, looking steadily into his eyes. “And I can prove it.”

“How?”

“Because you’re traveling to see your partner’s widow. Because a man who was bad wouldn’t bother.”

This time she let the triumph into her voice as well as her eyes.

Again he ignored it.

“You don’t know enough to even talk about that.”

“And you’re encouraging me to take heart. You’re telling me I can do this incredible thing and you’ve got me believing again that I can. You care, for
my
sake, whether I can do it.”

He frowned at her, but he didn’t let her go.

“Bad men don’t do things like that,” she said.

“You are, without a shadow of a doubt, the stubbornest woman I have ever met in all my life.”

“And you are the stubbornest man in mine.”

Her calm, judgmental tone made them both laugh. He turned her loose, and they stood looking at each other for a long time.

But still he wouldn’t kiss her.

“I’ve gotta see about our visitors,” he said, when she thought she couldn’t bear it any more not to reach for him.

He turned away, but then he stopped.

“Your shooting’ll improve with practice,” he said lightly. “You did fine today. Another week or two of shooting airtights every night and you won’t even need me anymore.”

I will! I will need you forever!

That was the truth. She reached for Shy Boy’s solid bulk, felt behind her with both hands for it, clung to her stirrup leather and leaned back against him.

She would need Cole forever.

Without his hard hands on her, without the glint in his chocolate eyes, without the wry drawl of his voice, she would float up into the sky and drift away from the very earth. She felt as if that could happen any minute.

Oh, dear God, what could she do? Surely her need for him was only physical. That must be it. He was the only man she’d ever lain with, and that was why she thought she couldn’t do without him.

That and the thought that she needed him to protect her. Soon she’d be able to do that for herself, to rely only on herself, as she’d done all her life.

Yes, by the end of the trail she’d be able to let him go because they weren’t going to make love any more. And that was good—she might fall in love with him if they did. That would
never
do. She would be powerless to keep him with her always, for the restlessness in him was infinite.

They weren’t going to make love any more. Cole wouldn’t even kiss her.

Something changed between them after that day. He learned that he was a stronger man than he had ever thought he could be. He had refrained from doing more than taking her into his arms when she was wanting him to kiss her. Right then they’d grown close as two pine saplings, yet as far apart as the moon and the stars.

But thinking about it did no good whatsoever. Maybe he ought to admit the truth, that instead of being strong he’d only been scared.

His heart had been open right then, open like an abyss, because he’d realized she could’ve been shot or raped, and that had shaken him to the core. God knew, he had to get a grip on himself, for he cared way too much about her. He’d told her the truth when he’d said he’d be bad for her. For her sake, if for no other reason, he could never stay with her.

Cole stepped up into the saddle and looked ahead, out over the land that should be the last of the two days of dry drive. Dawn was still just a shadow on the horizon, the moon was still high, but they were moving out anyway, after traveling until midnight as they had done for the past two nights. He stood in the stirrups
and stretched his arms into the air, moved them in circles trying to get waked up.

Damn! He must be getting old. A hot breakfast in his belly only made him sleepy now, when normally it and the four hours’ sleep he’d had would’ve made him good to ride all the way to the Rio Grande and fight the whole Mexican Army when he got there.

What was he doing thinking about staying with Rory, anyhow? His mind normally didn’t run like that, never, for he was nothing but a renegade drifter, and that was the God’s truth. He cared too much about her, but it wasn’t the usual attraction a woman had for him, he wasn’t falling for her or anything like that. He admired her, that was all.

He sat his saddle, rubbing old Border’s neck and murmuring to him, trying not to think about it. But his thoughts went right back to her like a stud to a mare.

She was the most courageous woman he’d ever known, and it wasn’t blind courage, either. She knew what she was facing, yet there had been not a doubting peep out of her since that day they’d got the rustlers.

The only reason she had faltered then was because one thing Rory was was loyal beyond measure. Loyal to a fault. She could not hurt Skeeter, even though he’d betrayed her.

He grinned and glanced toward her wagon, which was already hitched to its mules, where she was doing God knew what, getting ready to ride. Rory.

He always called her Rory now, and she called him only Lightning, and they tended to read each other’s thoughts without words. That was the damndest thing. She had read him like a book ever since they met, but now he could read her, too.

She pulled back the canvas door and stepped down from the wagon, flashing a wide smile at the twin who was on his way through the darkness to drive it.

“Good morning, Nate,” she called to him. “Gonna find water today.”

“Yes, ma’am! Reckon we’ll get us a bath?”

“Could be. I’m sure hoping so, aren’t you?”

Her voice was as cheerful as a chirping bird’s on the morning air. He shook his head in wonder. That was what he admired about her the most, it must be—her determined cheerfulness ever since that day Skeeter had ridden for the sunset.

A sullenness, a tension, had fallen over the crew as they sat around the fire that night, learning Skeeter’s sins from the talkative thief, and the mood wasn’t quite gone yet. An anecdote would come up, and before the storyteller could stop it, he’d realize that Skeeter figured in it. Or just in the course of the work someone would mention his name. But it didn’t help for everyone to be on guard not to speak it, either. There was a bitterness of betrayal in the air, made worse somehow by the fact that it had gone unpunished, yet when that was stated out loud, others pointed out how bad it would’ve
been to have to turn over one of their own to the law, maybe to be hanged.