When a Texan Gambles (9 page)

She didn’t fight, or try to push away, but she didn’t kiss him back, either. She felt stiff and cold, as if his advance had stopped her blood from flowing. He couldn’t even feel her heart beating. It was as if he’d caught a butterfly and held it a little too tightly.

When he straightened, he let go of her and said two words he’d never said in his life. “I’m sorry.”

If she had yelled at him, or slapped him, or swore to kill him, Sam would have felt better. At least she would have reacted. But she did nothing. The nothing hurt worse than anything she could have thought to do.

She didn’t back away from him now, he admired her for that. She stood right where he’d planted her and said, “You got a right, I guess. But don’t expect me to take any part of your handling me. I’ve been told men have needs that sometimes they can’t help but force on a woman.” Her chin rose slightly. “All I ask is that you don’t hurt me overly if you plan on not honoring our bargain.”

“What bargain?”

She stared at him with a hint of fear sparkling in her eyes. “You said if I helped you out back there in the bar that you would owe me one.”

“I did.” Sam had no intention on going back on his word but he couldn’t remember. “Name your price.”

“I ask one thing only. I probably should have said something earlier, but with you so hurt, I didn’t see that there was a need.”

“Ask.” Sam wasn’t sure he wanted to hear her words, but he knew he could wait no longer.

“I ask that we not become fully man and wife.... I ask that you not bed me until I’m ready. Just for once in my life I want my body to belong to me for the giving. I’ll be a wife to you in all other ways, I promise.”

The request seemed simple, but Sam saw the importance of her favor reflected in her eyes. He knew little of her past, but he saw her fighting for control in some part of her world. And here, with them, seemed to be where she drew the line.

He turned away. A week ago he would have sworn he didn’t have a heart, but Sarah just cut a chunk out of it. With coldness she spoke of something that was supposed to be special between a man and a woman. With the honesty of her stare she made his kiss less than nothing. And light blue eyes told him she meant every word. She would accept his advance, even his abuse if he chose not to keep his word. All she asked was that he allow her to live through it, like what he offered was a torture.

Half the people in Texas hated him and he didn’t care. They could be afraid of him or believe all the legends they wanted and it didn’t matter. As far as he could tell, Sarah didn’t even know enough about him to fear him. He’d never done anything to harm her.

She just thought less of him because he was a man ... because he had needs ... because he wanted her. As if wanting her were a crime. As if she had already decided he gave no honor to his words.

“I’ll never touch you again, if that is the way you want it, Sarah.” The words tasted bitter in his throat. Despite her stubbornness, she was the first woman in years that his arms ached to hold. A woman he thought it might be nice to come home to. The only one who’d stirred his blood when he looked at her. “I swear.”

She stared into the water, and he guessed she didn’t believe him.

“It doesn’t matter,” she answered, pushing her hair off her shoulder with her fingers as if she dusted away a bad memory. “I only hoped.”

“Sarah?” He waited for her to look at him. He couldn’t help but wonder if anyone had ever kept a promise to her.

When her eyes met his, they sparkled with unshed tears. “I’ll keep my word,” he swore. “Or I’ll give you back my Colt and you shoot me.”

She smiled. “I don’t know much about guns.”

“I’ll teach you just in case.” He turned to check the lines on the horses, thinking if he kept looking at her, he might as well hand her the Colt right now.

Sam ran his tongue across his bottom lip, remembering the taste of her. He hadn’t given her much of a first kiss, he decided. More like an attack. No wonder he saw fear in her eyes. She probably thought he planned to knock her down and mate with her right here in the clearing. He had his work cut out for him, trying to keep from touching her while figuring out how to hold her when she decided the time was right.

He waited a few more minutes before he said as softly as he’d ever issued an order. “Get in the wagon, Sarah. We’ll make it to town tonight, load up with supplies, and come back tomorrow, if that is the way you want it. If we stay here, we’ll all starve. You, me, the invisible children. I can drive the wagon on land, but I need help in the current. I can’t make it to town and back without you. Leaving is our only option.”

She turned away from him and walked to the tree line. After a long pause she yelled, “We’ll be back in two days! I’m leaving the blanket and the buffalo robe so you can stay warm!”

When she noticed him watching her, she raised her chin. “All right, Sam Gatlin, I’m ready.” She lifted her bundle she’d tied together with her shawl.

“You taking that?” he asked.

“Of course. A lady has to have belongings.”

He didn’t comment, but wondered what she carried. As far as he knew she was down to near nothing. One dress she’d been using for bandages. The knife she’d pulled out of his back. A half-empty bag she’d claimed an old woman had given her as medicine. Not much in the way of belongings, he decided.

They climbed into the wagon and started off without another word. The first few hours were hard, fighting the currents in the water. Sam held the reins as long as he could. When she took over, he circled his arm around her, bracing her in the seat, making it easier on her to drive without having to worry about tumbling from the bench.

He tried not to think of the way she felt against him. She might have married him to get out of jail, but she wanted no part of him as a husband. And he didn’t want her if she thought she was just doing her duty. Sometime soon he’d have to tell her about how he made his living, and then she wouldn’t stay with him.

But for now he’d hold her against him, acting like the feel of her didn’t affect him. For once he wanted to believe he could be a normal man. He didn’t want to think of the handful of outlaws who wanted him dead, or the places where folks swore when anyone said his name.

At first he’d done what he had to for money. He’d told himself he was in the right, he wasn’t breaking any laws. He accepted jobs no one else wanted. Fighting on the frontier, bounty hunting. The pay was good, and drifting seemed destined to be his way.

He thought he would walk away when he’d done his part, or made enough, but that day never came. Lately, he had even stopped thinking about the possibility of another life until one night at Cedar Point when he saw an angel.

Only problem was, that angel wanted more than he could give. She planned to be a wife to him, and Sam had no plans of remaining a husband.

Shadows covered the town when they finally saw it along the horizon. The horses didn’t speed up as they usually did with the promise of hay ahead of them. Like Sam, they were too tired.

He had to stay alert. Both their lives might depend on it. She didn’t know it yet, she hadn’t been married to him long enough to understand that a town or anywhere with people was not a haven, but a danger.

Ignoring the pain in his back, he pressed forward. The sooner they got to town, the sooner they could leave. He didn’t care where they traveled next as long as it was away from people and for a long enough time for him to heal.

Sam unhitched the team while she got a room with a twenty-dollar gold piece he pulled from an opening in the leather of his gun belt.

Sleep seemed to have settled on the little no-name town. Tonight not even piano music drifted from the saloon.

Sarah thought of getting separate quarters, but wasn’t sure how much more money Sam had. It seemed as if he’d drawn his final stash for the night’s stay. When she wrote Mr. and Mrs. Sam Gatlin on the register, the night clerk raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say a word. She carried her bundle upstairs to the same room where they’d spent their first night. A lifetime had passed since then.

Spreading out her belongings on the bed, she removed the knife she’d pulled from his back, the remains of the dress he’d bought her, and his extra shirt. She also had his comb and the thin box of matches.

Sitting in the only chair, she waited for him with the door open. If he wandered into the wrong room this late, she might find herself a widow again. She lit the lantern, hoping he would see the light when he headed down the hallway.

Unwittingly, she compared Sam to her first husband. Mitchell had not been so tall, or as thick as Sam. Mitchell had never yelled at her, or argued with her over anything. From the beginning, he’d shown little interest in her or in what she did all day as long as she did what was expected of her. They’d married one morning, then she’d moved her few things into a kitchen that had been set up by his first wife. By supper she had a meal prepared.

On their wedding day Mitchell had complained about a late start as they drove home from the preacher’s. He worked until dark that first day. When he finally came in from the fields, it was as if they’d been married forever. Like Granny Vee, he believed in rules. Sarah had broken the first one that night by moving things around in the kitchen. Mitchell reminded her that everything was to remain as his wife had left it.

Sarah touched her sleeve. Her dress, the only dress she owned, had once been Mitchell’s first wife’s. Sarah had always felt like a poor replacement for someone he had loved and lost.

He never looked at her with hungry eyes as Sam had today in the clearing He’d never grabbed her and kissed her so hard her teeth hurt.

Sarah closed her eyes and fought back tears. But late at night ... late at night Mitchell’s hands would slide along her leg and pull up her nightgown. Without a word he’d climb on her. Cold, almost impersonal, he’d take her. Then, without a comment or a caring touch, he’d leave. Rolling over to sleep. Not bothering to lower her gown. And every time ... she fought down tears as she remembered ... every time he hurt her deep inside where bruises never show.

She told herself she hadn’t minded the bedding so much. But she dreamed of more. This time she wanted to be a wife, a true partner. She would do all that was expected of her, but she would not be bedded by Sam until he made up his mind to be her husband. This time she would wait until she was ready to be truly married.

Sarah heard Sam lumbering slowly up the stairs like a great tired bear looking for his den. When he reached the door, she saw exhaustion in his eyes.

“Are you all right?” she asked as he moved into the room and closed the door. He hadn’t said more than a few words for hours. She didn’t know if he was mad about the kiss or simply saving all his energy for traveling.

“Just tired,” he answered as he turned and set the rifle by the bed. A dark red stain spread across the back of his white shirt.

“You’ve reopened the wound.” Sarah hurried to his side, hating to see blood once more. The smell of it seemed to fill the room.

“It’s nothing.” He made a movement with his hand as if to shoo her away.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Lie down on the bed and let me have a look.”

Sam unbuckled his gunbelt and draped it over the side of the bed just as he had the last time they’d stayed here. “I’m too tired to argue, Sarah. Just shoot me. I’m not sure I can endure much more of your nursing.”

Sarah grinned, remembering how she’d thought of shooting him in this very room not so many days ago. “Don’t tempt me. Now lie down.” She wanted the blood on his back gone as fast as possible.

He almost fell atop the bed as she pulled his shirt from his trousers.

The wound wasn’t as bad as she feared. Carefully she cleaned the blood, letting the cold water aid in stopping the bleeding. As she pressed a rag against the opening, Sarah spread her other hand across his unharmed flesh. Lightly she stroked his skin as if her touch could brush away the pain she caused.

He didn’t make a sound, but his flesh was warm and seemed to welcome her caress. Strange, how she liked touching him. In a small way, he belonged to her, this powerful man. He didn’t have to tell her no one ever touched him. She knew. Just as she knew his soul must be as scarred as his body. But fate had put her in the lion’s cage, and she’d lived too long in fear to be afraid anymore.

When she finished bandaging his wound, she heard his slow steady breathing and knew he was sound asleep. Too tired to give it much thought, Sarah curled up next to him and fell asleep.

EIGHT

GUNFIRE RICOCHETED DOWN THE HALLWAY. JARRING Sarah awake. She heard people running. A woman screamed. Thuds rattled against the walls as if bodies were being tossed. Chaos rode full speed toward her door.

“Hurry!” Sam ordered as he pulled on a new white shirt. “Get dressed.”

Since she’d fallen asleep in her clothes, Sarah had nothing to do but stand. “What is it?”