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The Devil's Kiss
Deloras Scott
The Devil In Disguise Bethany Alexander yearned to experience the real West in all its dusty glory - and who better to show it to her than an honest-to-goodness outlaw? So she'd hired the notorious gunman Cole Wagner to teach her the ropes - never expecting a lesson in seduction from the devil himself.Cole Wagner needed a cover to hide behind. But he didn't count on being saddled with a rich, spoiled - and tempting - heiress who was constantly getting herself into scrapes. His orders were to keep his hands off, but while rescuing her from peril, he couldn't save her from himself.



Acclaim for DeLoras Scott’s previous books (#u5a634a98-1382-564f-a173-c07b0816b8f6)“Listen to me, Beth!” (#ua714a79e-5e67-5c8d-a476-e789e733714f)Letter to Reader (#u084e12ba-95c0-5dc6-93d0-f4dbff201bd7)Title Page (#ufd16aa03-a922-5778-8d79-854fdc727d85)About the Author (#u558593aa-da73-5536-8ecb-f41b53a6af5b)Author’s Note (#uc5674151-5636-5027-8bd6-ea5965a24db6)Prologue (#u1fcedc03-9aee-5275-9e4f-933f5907c39f)Chapter One (#ud7f12fdb-3ccf-58a9-a7b0-8a3fe0f9e548)Chapter Two (#ufa0621a8-bdfc-5a21-88d4-abef495b0876)Chapter Three (#ub4c3971f-0dee-5f09-8b88-4adc04900230)Chapter Four (#u9ded2bcb-1656-535f-bf7c-7086bde276a7)Chapter Five (#ubf1cf9b3-290e-54b3-8dbb-a50edd9f0cd8)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Acclaim for DeLoras Scott’s previous books
Addie’s Lament
“DeLoras ‘superscribe’ Scott scores with this stupendous story.”
—Affaire de Coeur
“A fantastic tale.”
—Rendezvous
Timeless
“5
s...her strongest and most impressive work to date.”
—Affaire de Coeur
“...tops her Springtown, and I thought that was super!”
—Rendezvous
Springtown
“...a fresh, entertaining and witty romp...4+”
—Romantic Times
“GOLD 5”
—Heartland Critiques
“Listen to me, Beth!”
Cole’s gaze shifted here and there for any signs of the raiding party. “I’m going to try to get us out of this alive, but I’m going to need your help. Should we meet up with the Indians, I don’t want you trying to outrun them.”
Beth’s panic exploded in her ears. “I’ll not give up without making a run for it!”
She leaned forward, ready to plant her heels in her horse’s ribs, but Cole grabbed the bit. Beth could do nothing as long as Cole held on. She whipped unmercifully at him with the ends of the reins.
“Dammit, Beth, stop fighting me!”
Beth continued to struggle. “I’ll never listen to you again...you yellow-bellied—” All other accusations were left unsaid. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she became very still.
Five mounted hostiles in full plumage were riding toward them. They, as well as their horses, were splashed with all the colors of the spectrum.
Cole stated coldly, “You wanted to see scalpings and you wanted to see Indians. Well, here they are....”
Dear Reader,
DeLoras Scott’s first book, Bittersweet, was published by Harlequin Historicals in 1987, and she continues to be one of our most popular authors. This month she is back with The Devil’s Kiss, a romantic comedy about two misfits who discover love, despite Indians, outlaws and themselves. Don’t miss this wonderful story.
The Trail to Temptation is the second book for Rae Muir, a featured author in our 1996 March Madness promotion. It’s a Western about a star-crossed couple who fight their attraction on a trail drive from Texas to Montana. Awardwinning author Margaret Moore’s The Wastrel, the magical story of a disowned heiress and a devil-may-care bachelor, introduces her new series of Victorian romance novels featuring a trio of “most unsuitable” heroes that she has aptly named MOST UNSUITABLE....
And March 1996 author Tori Phillips returns this month with an unforgettable story, Silent Knight, the tale of a would-be monk and a French noblewoman who fall in love on a delightful journey across medieval England.
Whatever your taste in reading, we hope Harlequin Historicals will keep you coming back for more. Please keep a lookout for all four titles, available wherever books are sold.
Sincerely,
Tracy Farrell
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Harlequin Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
The Devil’s Devil’s Kiss
Deloras Scott

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
DELORAS SCOTT was raised in Sutter’s Mill, California—an area steeped in history. At one time it was gold country, and the legacy of wagon trains, cowboys and miners has remained. It’s no wonder she enjoys writing about a chapter of history referred to as the Old West.
Author’s Note
When my parents moved to Sacramento, California, in the fifties, there were still thousands of acres with nothing but rocks left from the mining days. A hundred years ago the miners dredged everything. Especially the soil needed for plants to grow. This bit of knowledge, Sutter’s Fort and a land steeped in history drew my fascination. Now, having lived and traveled extensively across these United States, my interest hasn’t diminished. Of course, everything comes full circle and I am again living in Sacramento, and enjoying that wealth of history.
The idea for The Devil’s Kiss came from old pictures I happened across in a library. A lady of obvious quality was seated on a horse—sidesaddle—a rifle lying across her lap. The picture next to it showed a burly sharpshooter standing beside a towering pile of buffalo pelts. My imagination churned and came up with The Devil’s Kiss.
I love to hear from readers. Please write.
DeLoras Scott
P.O. Box 278042
Sacramento, CA 95827-8042
Prologue
Texas
Cole Wagner watched the freckle-faced young man enter the saloon and sidle up to the bar. It was doubtful the pup had yet reached his seventeenth birthday. Cole’s gaze dropped to the .35 resting in the kid’s holster—hand level for a quick draw. There was a cockiness about him that Cole easily recognized. He had seen it many times before.
“Are you goin’ to call the bet or not?”
Cole glanced down at the cards he was holding. A jack high. He called the wager and drew three cards. Tonight he’d barely been able to stay even in the game, but things were starting to look up. He’d just been dealt two jacks to go with the one he held.
On the other side of the room the kid downed his drink, then turned. Eyes narrowed, he slowly, methodically scanned each man in the saloon.
Cole dropped what was left of his cigar into the spittoon beside his foot. “Tell you what,” he said to the other four players. “Its been a long night, and I have to hightail it to Missouri on the next train. So, I’m going to make this my last hand.” He shoved his stash to the center of the table. “Anyone care to match it?”
The banker shook his head and tossed his cards in. The barber thought a moment before calling. The other two also called, making it the biggest pot of the evening. The three jacks were good and Cole started raking in his winnings.
“Cole Wagner!”
The call was loud and the saloon was small. Everyone heard the name. Cole shoved his winnings into his coat pockets.
“Has old age made you a yeller belly?”
The other players at the table suddenly realized whom they had been sitting with. They made a dash to get away, knocking over several chairs in their haste. It had always amazed Cole how quiet a saloon could become when a gunfight was about to take place.
“Well? You jest gonna sit there? Maybe you ain’t as good as I heard tell?”
The chair scraped the wooden floor as Cole shoved it back and slowly stood. There were some things he just couldn’t abide. Being called yellow was one, and being called an old man was another. He started walking toward the bar, his body a taut spring waiting to uncoil. He smelled the rank odor of unwashed bodies, Rosebud whiskey and stale smoke. Even a whisper seemed amplified a hundred times. “You’d be wise to reconsider, pup.”
“I didn’t ride no hundred miles for nothin’, old man.”
“You’re not even dry behind the ears. It’s too bad you’re not going to live long enough to find out that thirty-two isn’t old.” When Cole came to a halt, there was less than twenty feet between him and the cur. With a resigned sigh he tucked the front of his black longtail coat behind his guns. His hands dropped to his sides ... ready...waiting. “It’s your move, boy.”
Beads of sweat began popping out on the kid’s forehead. As usual, the mutt wasn’t as brave as he was making out to be. Then Cole felt the steel barrel of a shotgun jammed between his shoulders. It had all been a setup. The kid’s partner must have been waiting until he could get behind him.
“I wouldn’t make a move for that gun, Wagner,” the man behind Cole warned. “It makes no difference if I turn you in dead or alive. All I want is the bounty.”
“Damn you, Perkins!” the kid yelled. “What took you so long? Hell, I thought I was fixin’ to get killed!” He grabbed the neck of the whiskey bottle and with a shaking hand lifted it to his lips and guzzled the contents.
Cole felt his .45 being lifted from his holster. As the bounty hunter came into view, Cole chuckled. The one with the rough voice was a skinny weasel, had a glass eye and was considerably older than his friend.
“Dammit, Jake, get over here and tie him up!” Perkins yelled.
The kid slammed the bottle down on the bar. As he hurried forward, he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his dirty shirt.
“Is he really Cole Wagner?” one of the patrons called.
“The one and only,” Jake boasted now that he knew the outlaw couldn’t harm him. “Or maybe we should call him Sir Outlaw. Look at him. He was talkin’ real big a minute ago, now he ain’t nothin’. I’ll bet I could’ve outdrawn him.” He took the rope Perkins handed him. “He ain’t gonna be seein’ the outside of prison for a hell of a long time. If he don’t get hung, he’ll probably die there.”
“You’d best hope so,” Cole warned, “’cause if I get out, you’re a dead man.”
“Shut up, Jake,” Perkins ordered. “If you gotta act so almighty, do it after we get our money.”
The saloon became a hubbub of voices as the two men marched their prisoner outside. Perkins was being especially cautious. Jake, on the other hand, kept giving the outlaw unnecessary shoves. As Cole swung up on his horse’s back and settled himself in the saddle, young Jake stepped forward, ready to taunt the prisoner again.
With Jake between him and Wagner, Perkins couldn’t prevent what happened next.
The outlaw swung his foot upward, the toe of his boot catching Jake beneath the chin. The boy staggered backward, falling into his partner, knocking him down. By the time Perkins had scrambled to his feet, Wagner had his horse galloping down the road. Perkins fired several times, but the wanted man had already disappeared into the night.
Chapter One
Independence, Missouri, 1874
Bethany Alexander folded her hands in her lap trying to look pleasant, when in reality the chairs in her small hotel suite were most uncomfortable. “I was pleased to see you had the carriages waiting for our arrival.”
The portly man seated across from her smiled.
“Have my other instructions been carried out?”
“I have done everything you requested in your letters,” John Smyth assured the wealthy and very beautiful redhead. “However, I did have a problem with your telegram.”
“Oh?”
“The telegrapher must have misinterpreted your message. It said something about buying an outlaw.”
“What was confusing?”
He cleared his throat. “How do you expect me to do that?”
“I’m the one paying for your services, not the other way around. I’ve decided a bank robber or someone of such a nature would be perfect.”
“Apparently you have not considered the impossibility of such a purchase, or the danger in hiring a man of that caliber.”
“Oh, but I have, Mr. Smyth.” Beth leaned forward, excitement shining in her eyes. “I am looking for a man who can show me the real West, and who better to do that than a real outlaw?” She leaned back in her chair. “I’m disappointed that since my trip from Boston began, I have yet to see a man wearing a weapon on his hip.”
“I can assure you the people hereabouts are just as civilized as they are in Boston. And, contrary to the picture you apparently have in mind, wanted men do not go about sporting hardware on their hips, nor do they make themselves available. They would be hauled off to jail.” Why would a woman of obvious quality even consider such a thing? Smyth wondered. It certainly couldn’t be for the money. Well, it wasn’t any of his concern. When she left Independence, he’d be finished with her.
“If you are unable to get what I want,” Beth said calmly, “I will locate someone better qualified to handle the matter.”
John frowned. “There is a jail, but I wouldn’t recommend—”
Beth stood. “Good. I knew you would come up with something. We’ll leave immediately. I want to get everything settled as quickly as possible so I can be on my way.”
John pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead. It had been a tedious day. “Instead, why don’t I look into the matter and report back? I’m certain you would rather rest after your long journey.”
“May I remind you that I stepped off the paddle wheel two days ago? Besides, I can rest after I die.” Beth anointed him with a radiant smile. “Well, are we going?”
“Y-yes, of course, but I doubt we’ll be immediately successful in our quest,” John hedged. “However, given proper time, I’m certain I can find the type of man you are looking for.”
“Well, we won’t know until we try. Shall we be on our way?”
The gentleman stood. He had tried to dissuade Mrs. Alexander from going to the jail. Now he could only hope Wagner had had enough time to get there from Texas. As they walked down the hotel stairs he thought about how shocked the lovely Mrs. Alexander would be should she discover she was about to be used by the government to track down a band of outlaws. When they entered his coach Smyth swallowed a chuckle. And wouldn’t the widow really blow off steam if she knew he wasn’t the real John Smyth? He was simply there to set up everything.
When the carriage pulled to a halt, Beth was surprised to see the size of the jail. She hadn’t expected the Tower of London, but neither had she expected such a small brick building. Could prisoners actually breathe in such a place?
The deputy inside was snoring so loudly he didn’t hear the visitors enter—until Smyth shoved the man’s feet off the scarred desk.
Deputy Carson jumped to his feet. Startled at seeing the well-dressed lady, he sputtered, “Ah...ma’am, I think you’ve come to the wrong place. This here’s a jail.”
“Obviously,” Beth stated tartly.
“Mrs. Alexander is looking to buy an outlaw,” John announced.
The statement caused the deputy to choke on his tobacco juice. After a coughing fit and several gasps, he finally managed to catch his breath. “Whoever heard of such a thing? ’Sides, all I got is a couple of men sleeping off a drunk.” Easterners sure can come up with some of the damnedest things, he thought.
“Mrs. Alexander is willing to pay you handsomely for the right outlaw.” John winked at the deputy trying to indicate that money could be made from this deal.
“Of course, he must be good at what he does. And a gentleman,” Beth added.
Carson was beginning to get Smyth’s message. “It just so happens I do have such a man.” He certainly wasn’t above making money off a drunk.
“And he must know how to shoot and talk to Indians,” John added. The only problem with this entire setup was not letting the deputy in on the deal. But orders had been to let no one else know what was really going on. Even he didn’t know all the facts.
“Oh, he does,” Carson assured Beth. “Yes, sirree. Why, he’s even robbed a bank or three,” he threw in for good measure. He glanced at John to be sure he was saying the right things. Just how much money was this woman willing to pay?
John nodded his encouragement.
“There’s a reward for him,” Carson added as an afterthought.
“How big of a reward?” Beth asked.
“A... five hundred?”
Beth clapped her hands. “Wonderful. I’ll buy him.” She looked at John. “See how easy that was?”
Carson couldn’t believe his good fortune. He should probably feel guilty about taking advantage of the lady, but he didn’t. “Plus what he owes for tearing up the Gun Runner Saloon last night.”
“Who shall I pay?” Beth inquired.
“Me. You can pay me.” Carson said.
“I want to take a look at the man first,” John insisted.
The deputy opened the door leading to the two cells. John stepped into the narrow walkway.
“And how much do I owe the saloon?” Beth asked the deputy.
As soon as John saw the big man lying on the bare straw mattress, he released his breath. He should have known Wagner would be there as arranged. This had to be an important assignment for President Grant to send his best man. He was also the most cold-blooded son of a bitch John had ever worked with—but that was neither here nor there. The man always seemed to get the job done.
“What is your name?” John asked, loud enough for the others to hear.
“Who the hell wants to know?”
“I do. I might have a job for you.”
“Just call me Sir Outlaw.” The big man laughed at his own joke.
“I have a lady who is willing to pay a good wage for a man who can show her the West. Would you be interested in such a proposition?”
“Hell, yes. Beats staying in this confounded place. I’d make a good guide.”
John walked back out just in time to block Beth from entering. He closed the door behind him.
“Perhaps I should take a look. I don’t want to spend money unnecessarily.”
“He needs to be cleaned up before being presented to a lady.”
“Well, what do you think?” Beth asked.
“He seems to be just the man you’re looking for.”
The deputy tried not to stare as the lady reached into her reticule for the money, but he was having an awfully hard time believing his good luck. “The prisoner’s name is Cole Wagner, ma’am,” he stated. He couldn’t believe the amount of coin that was being placed in his hands.
“Thank you,” Beth said sweetly. “I will send two men to take him away. Even so, it might be wise to have him manacled.”
Inside the cell, Cole Wagner scratched his bearded chin, grinned, then returned to his smelly mattress. So far everything had gone as planned. But for now, he needed all the rest he could get. His trip from Texas had been long.
The rhythm of rain splattering on the tin roof soon had him sleeping as soundly as a newborn babe.
That afternoon Deputy Carson and his handcuffed prisoner stood just inside the doorway of the jail, staring at two brawny men who were climbing out of a coach. Cole could tell by their hesitant smiles that they weren’t too sure how they were supposed to handle him.
Since the good deputy had already repeated his conversation with the woman, Cole saw no reason to delay his departure. He nodded at the men, ducked his face from the rain, then ran to the coach. In truth, he needed to get away from the jail as quickly as possible. At any time the deputy could have recognized his picture, if the Wanted posters had already been distributed. Too many explanations would have had to have been made, and under the circumstances he couldn’t afford that to happen. But that was exactly why Smyth had selected this particular jail. The deputy was new and gave no inkling of ambition. It was doubtful he even looked at the Wanted posters.
Cole quickly discovered that this particular style of carriage wasn’t made to carry three big men. The vehicle seemed to sink a foot when the other two joined him inside. One sat facing him, the other sat beside him. Cole felt like a squashed gnat. He studied his companions. They had to be brothers. They both had light brown hair, blue eyes, and were devoid of any quality that would make them easy to identify.
Because the men seemed nervous, Cole decided to make their acquaintance. “Since we’re apparently going to be working together, it’s only right that I introduce myself. The name’s Cole Wagner.” He gave them a wide, friendly smile.
“I’m Wilber Jones,” the older of the two replied, “and this is my brother, Decker.”
Cole raised his hands. “I’d shake but, as you can see, that would be a bit difficult.”
They both laughed, already starting to feel relaxed around the stranger.
Decker cleared his throat. “You don’t look like a man who would rob a bank.”
The statement slid off Cole’s shoulders as easily as satin. Over the years he’d had a lot of practice at coming up with answers people wanted to hear. “Looks can be deceiving. Don’t tell anyone, but I’m quite harmless, if that’s what is bothering you. That bank thing happened a while back. I was trying to feed some of my family whose farm had been ravaged by grasshoppers.”
The Jones brothers fell silent.
Cole had just drifted off to sleep when the conveyance came to a halt in front of the hotel. A few minutes later he was escorted through the back entrance, up the stairs and was finally brought to a halt in front of a large door. When the door opened he found himself facing a petite beauty. Servants didn’t wear such expensive gowns. He suspected he was facing his soon-to-be employer.
“Please come in, Mr. Wagner.” He stepped forward and she closed the door behind him, leaving the others to stand in the hallway. “I am Mrs. Bethany Alexander.”
A slow grin spread across Cole’s lips. This situation had possibilities. Besides the lady’s pleasing physical qualities, he liked her apparent lack of fear at being alone with an outlaw. He snatched off his top hat, then sauntered farther into the room.
A quick glance at the expensive surroundings told Cole a great deal about the lady he was going to be working for. She was wealthy and accustomed to the very best. The price he had planned to charge for his services escalated.
Cole held up his manacled hands. “Do you plan to leave these on me?”
“For now.”
“I’m curious. Aren’t you worried that I might attack you?”
“Why should I be? Decker and Wilber are on the other side of the door. Besides, we’re not alone.”
Out of the corner of his eye Cole caught sight of a man sitting in a chair, partially hidden by the room’s shadows.
“Please join us.”
Cole followed her to the other side of the room.
“You’ve already met the Jones brothers. This is Howard Bench. He will be second in command during our trip.”
Howard stood and nodded.
Cole figured him to be approximately ten years the woman’s senior. He had a touch of gray at his temples and his clothes were fashionable and expensive. But the gentleman wasn’t just a soft greenhorn. He had the look of a hunter in his eyes, a look Cole easily recognized. Cole knew immediately that Howard knew how to take care of himself and would probably be dangerous if crossed. Because he and the lady had different names, he wondered if they were lovers. “What trip are you talking about?”
“We’ll discuss that in a moment.” Now that Beth had a good look at the man, she began to slowly shake her head from side to side. His beard, height and build were the only images that made him look even half dangerous. Undoubtedly his black eye and facial abrasions were due to tearing up the saloon she’d paid for.
“You don’t look like an outlaw,” Beth commented, more to herself than to Cole. She shouldn’t have relied on Mr. Smyth’s opinion.
“What is an outlaw supposed to look like?” Cole asked.
“Well... I...I certainly wouldn’t expect one to be dressed in a plaid tweed suit and wear a top hat, even though the suit is quite worn and outdated.” Beth sat on a cushioned chair, leaving him standing. “Even your hair and beard are well trimmed,” she said with obvious disappointment.
“I take it outlaws dress differently and do not trim their hair.”
“They would hardly have time for such things when they’re constantly running from the law. I had also expected someone younger. How old are you, Mr. Wagner?”
Where had the woman come up with these ridiculous ideas, Cole wondered. “Why do you ask?”
“Beth, don’t you think you’re being rather hard on Mr. Wagner?” Howard asked. “Mr. Smyth told you that men do not dress as such in town.”
“Had the deputy not said he was a bank robber, I would never have suspected him of a single wrongdoing.” She looked at his black eye. “Other than partaking in a brawl.” She shook her head again. “There is whiskey behind you on the end table, if you care to have a drink.”
The invitation surprised Cole. Mrs. Alexander was a complexity. She did not strike him as a woman who offered whiskey in her parlor. Was she testing him? “Thank you, but I think not. This is Sunday and it’s against the Lord’s teaching.”
From the looks on their faces, it was evident that the lady and gentleman were dumbfounded. Cole knew he’d made the wrong choice. He should have accepted the damn drink. He certainly could have used one.
“That obviously wasn’t a hindrance last night. All outlaws drink whiskey, smoke, gamble, curse, practice debauchery and are quick draws. But maybe you weren’t a good outlaw. You don’t even wear a gun and holster. It’s no wonder you got caught!”
“I had a gun. As luck would have it, the sheriff had walked into the bank right behind me,” he lied. “I didn’t have a chance.”
Howard rubbed the back of his neck. “See, Beth? You’re being completely unreasonable.”
Cole was somewhat pleased that her face softened a bit. He shifted to his other foot. “Do you mind if I sit?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Beth!” Howard protested.
“He has been in jail, Howard. He’s probably covered with lice.”
Cole rolled his eyes. Damn! If only he knew what this was all about and what was expected of him. All he knew was that he was to go to work for the lady as a guide, just as the deputy had told him. “Where did you learn all about outlaws, Mrs. Alexander?”
“From dime westerns. That is the reason for this trip.”
Cole had to turn away to keep from breaking out laughing. “Never have I met anyone quite like you, Mrs. Alexander,” he finally managed to say soberly.
“Nor I you.”
“Tell me. If all outlaws looked the same, don’t you think it would be easy for the law to spot them?”
Howard chuckled. “Touché! I’ve tried telling her the same thing.”
Beth knew they were right. She shouldn’t have let her disappointment at not finding what she had expected override common sense. And why should she continue to badger Cole Wagner? Hopefully he had the qualifications she needed. After all, he was the only man she had for the position as guide. He would have to do until she found someone better. She really didn’t need a desperado if he could show her what she needed to see.
Howard walked over and poured himself a full glass of whiskey.
So far, Cole had learned that Beth was not only the one who seemed to be calling all the shots, she was also quite blunt. He needed more information. “If it’s not too much trouble, ma’am, I’d like to know what you expect of me. Are you seeking revenge on someone, am I to kill a lover, or maybe you just fancy having a wanted man for yourself?”
The whiskey spewed from Howard’s mouth as he broke out in a thunderous roar of laughter.
“Your questions weren’t called for, Mr. Wagner,” Beth snapped.
“Then why do you want an outlaw?”
Beth marched to the door and opened it. “Decker, Wilber,” she beckoned.
The men appeared immediately.
“Take him to his room. I have already made arrangements for his clothes to be cleaned and for him to bathe. Later, Mr. Wagner, we will dine and discuss what I want of you.”
“Because it seems to be so important to you, Mrs. Alexander, I am thirty-two,” Cole said just before walking out the door.
As soon as the door had been closed behind the men, Bethany glared at Howard. He was using his handkerchief to wipe the front of his vest where he’d spewed whiskey. He was still chuckling. “Howard!”
“Come, come, Beth. Even you have to see how comical this entire situation is. And you did ask for what you got.”
Beth’s face relaxed and a smile toyed with the corners of her full lips. He was as close to a father as she had ever known. “You are impossible.”
Howard nodded. “I hope this time you haven’t taken on more than you can handle, Priss.” He set the glass of whiskey on the mantel.
“What do you think? Can he show me everything I want to see?”
“I have a strong hunch you’ve met your match with our Mr. Wagner. But to answer your question, I have no idea what the man can or cannot do. Maybe we’ll know more after supper.” Oddly, it flashed through Howard’s mind that he had been watching over Beth for nearly ten years and it was time for someone else to take over the task.
Beth decided to change the subject. “Esther is still in bed, but I thought you’d like to know that color has returned to her cheeks.”
“I never expected it not to.” Howard finished his drink. “Don’t blame yourself for her sickness. You had no way of knowing the Missouri River would be so choppy.”
“You’re right, of course, but I hated seeing her so miserable.”
“I’ll see you at supper, Priss.” Howard left, feeling uneasy. Over the years he’d known a lot of men. Some good, some dangerous. Which was Cole Wagner? He still wished he had been able to talk Beth out of this foolish trip.
With Howard gone, Beth suddenly felt alone. It was a familiar feeling. She’d known it for so many years it had almost become a friend. Howard had said she needed to find a good man to marry. One she couldn’t order about. Esther had said the feeling was caused from never really knowing her parents. Her uncle had taken on the responsibility of raising her when her parents had died somewhere in Europe, but Uncle Oliver bore her no true affection. She smiled faintly. Howard and Esther were her family. Frank had joined them a little later. He was just a boy then.
Beth glanced at the wag clock, then quickly stood. She had to meet Mr. Smyth downstairs in fifteen minutes. She wanted to be sure all final arrangements had been completed—something she could have let Howard take care of, but she needed to be busy instead of just sitting around feeling sorry for herself. She also wanted to tell Mr. Smyth how disappointed she was in the outlaw he’d selected. Other than his size, Cole Wagner seemed more like a domestic cat than a lion. And it wasn’t right that he should be on the handsome side. He was supposed to appear villainous.
Chapter Two
Not until Cole was ready to sit at the supper table did Howard remove the handcuffs. Cole rubbed his wrists, noticing the red abrasions. The deputy had locked them too tight.
From the moment Cole had entered the room, his eyes had not left the beauty already seated across from him. The bodice of her green grown dipped low enough to allow him an ample view of full, creamy breasts, waiting to be released from their confinement. Her hair hung in soft, copper ringlets and the green bows at each side of her face matched her gown. It had been a good three years since he’d formally dined with a lady of such absolute loveliness.
“Please be seated, Cole,” Howard said. “I’m sure you could use a meal under your belt.”
The moment Cole was settled, a parade of servants appeared. Bowls of vegetables and platters of beef and fowl were held out for his selection. At least his hostess’s attitude had improved from earlier.
“Excellent meal, Mrs. Alexander,” Cole complimented when he had finished his dessert.
“Thank you. Please call me Beth. Everyone else does.”
“What do you do with what’s left over?”
“As you will soon discover,” Howard answered, “Beth has a lot of people in her employ.”
Beth dabbed her lips with her linen napkin before placing it beside her plate. “I think it’s time for us to get down to business.”
Cole leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Excuse me for not mentioning sooner that you are a vision of loveliness tonight.”
The compliment took Beth completely by surprise. “I... Thank you. Ah...” Beth regained her composure. “Until I started this trip, I had never traveled in my own country. I’ve never seen a man robbed or shot, or a gun drawn. I haven’t seen savage Indians. This is where you come in. I want you to show me all this. I want to see stagecoaches and trains held up. In other words, I want to see the real frontier. Naturally I’ll be making sketches and taking notes the entire time. I intend to write novels.” Beth looked him straight in the eye. “I am writing about outlaws.”
Cole was dismayed. She was serious! There wasn’t even a hint of humor in her expression — or Howard’s. Now, how the hell was he supposed to react to this? Damn! Someone had better supply him with some answers—and soon. What was her part in this assignment? “Do you realize what you’re asking?”
Beth stood. “Of course I do,” she replied indignantly. “I’ve done a considerable amount of reading on the matter.”
“Are you going to let her do this?” Cole asked Howard as they followed Beth into the small parlor.
“You will learn that the lady has a mind of her own.”
“Why would you ask such a ques —” Beth broke off and laughed with delight. “Howard, I do believe he thinks we are lovers.”
“I gave it some thought,” Cole admitted.
“Why, I’ll wager you were even convinced that I’m a kept woman.”
Cole kept his comments to himself. He was still trying to digest all the woman planned to accomplish during her travels.
“Actually, Howard, I can see where he could have reached that conclusion.”
Nothing was going right, and Cole would very much have liked to join Howard in a drink of that whiskey the debonair gentleman was pouring himself. He was having to second-guess everything, and his guesses were not getting the results he’d expected. Figuring out Beth Alexander wasn’t going to be easy.
“You are wrong on both accounts,” Beth assured Cole. “Howard and I are good friends. He watches after me.”
Cole watched her sit on the divan with the grace of a queen.
Beth looked directly at the tall man. “Now, I believe the time has come for you to tell me if you can provide what I want. Are you familiar with the area from here to Dodge City, my final destination?”
“Oh, I can provide what you want, and yes, I do know the territory. The question is whether or not I want to provide your entertainment. Are the men you’ve hired to go on the trek aware of what you are planning? I would think they would have concern for their lives, even if you don’t.”
Beth’s eyes flashed with indignation. “Let’s settle all the questions you might have so we will not have to broach this subject again. I want to write dime westerns. You are asking yourself why, when they are about men, and I don’t need the money. Because the editor at Beadle Library turned down my proposal. He said it was obvious I didn’t know what I was writing about. He was right. However, I can be a very determined woman. I will write those novels and prove my worth to the world, but as the editor said, first I must become acquainted with the real West.
“As for our trip, there will be nothing to concern yourself about except getting me to my destinations and providing what I want. Those who work for me have specific jobs and are quite capable of taking care of themselves. I am also capable of taking care of myself. There is little that I haven’t seen or done, including hunting tigers in India and playing matador in Spain.”
Beth paused, then added, “And I have seen death. When I was hunting, one of the maharaja’s beaters was mangled by the tiger.”
This time Cole didn’t ask if he could be seated. The high-backed chair looked the most comfortable.
“As for my people,” Beth continued, “I interviewed and hired each one individually. I made sure they would be loyal, willing to follow my orders without question and, most important, willing to take personal risks. They are a daring group, even the women. Does that take care of everything?”
“How long do you think it’s going to take to accomplish what you have planned?”
“I hadn’t thought about it. Are you in some sort of a hurry?”
“Not really. Just curious.”
“I have even purchased a house. It is presently being readied. I thought we could use it as a central base.”
“Let me see if I understand this correctly. You’re planning to ride out, watch a stage being held up, then return to town? Then after a good rest, do we ride out again and watch Indians scalping settlers? What do you need me for?”
“TO be my guide!”
“Anyone can do that. Go find an ex-lawman to do your running back and forth.” He knew he was taking a big gamble. He could only hope that she was as determined a woman as she’d stated and didn’t like things or people slipping out of her hands.
Beth raised her lace handkerchief to her nose and inhaled the scent of jasmine perfume. “I’m well aware that we may have to bivouac for two or three days on some occasions.”
One thing was certain. No matter what Beth was involved in, she definitely needed watching after. “If I took this job, we would leave and not return until everything has been accomplished. Seeing someone murdered or scalped by an Indian is a lot different than being mauled by a big cat.”
“I’m quite brave, and you needn’t try to frighten me. You might also like to know that I’m not easily dissuaded from what I set out to do.”
Cole leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “If that is so, how come you kept me handcuffed until this evening?”
“I have an investment in you and I want to make sure you don’t run off, at least not until I feel I no longer need you.”
“And what is to keep me from leaving right now with you as my hostage?”
“Howard, and the men waiting outside.” Beth pulled a small revolver from her pocket and pointed it directly at the outlaw. “I hope you’re not foolish enough to think that because I’m a woman I don’t know how to use it.” She gave him a warm smile. “Mr. Wagner, I will not be a handicap. My horsemanship and marksmanship are every bit as good as some men’s and exceedingly better than others. I have nerves of steel and do not faint in a crisis.”
“I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong man, Mrs. Alexander,” Cole bluffed. “That deputy lied to you. No man can provide you with what you’re looking for. You seem to be a sensible woman, so think about this. Of all the thousands of miles of track, who can make a knowledgeable guess as to where outlaws plan to stop a train, for instance? Not only where, but when. You’d do better to just rob the damn thing yourself.” Cole stood. “Also, Indians do not scalp people for ladies’ entertainment. Shoot me if you like, but I’m leaving. We both know I’m not the man you’re looking for.” He headed toward the door, gambling she would stop him.
“A hundred dollars for every time you provide what I want!”
His ploy had worked!
“Two hundred. It’s not as if I have to actually rob a train. We could pretend.”
Cole reached the door but didn’t turn the knob. He was listening to her offer, and at the same time wondering what she would come up with next.
“Five hundred,” Beth offered.
“A thousand.” He turned and faced her.
“Very well, a thousand. Do we have a deal?”
“Only if we keep going. I can show you everything on the way. I have no desire to keep retracing my tracks.”
“Done.” Beth’s smile showed her satisfaction.
“When will everything be ready to go?” Cole asked.
“Other than some last-minute supplies, we can leave any time you say.”
“Fine, but I’ll want to check everything personally. If all is in order, we’ll leave at four in the morning, two days from today.” He couldn’t picture her willing to get up so early, but he didn’t receive the reaction he’d expected. “In the meantime, I need money to get what I’ll need, like a horse and gear.” He rubbed his wrists. “Have you decided what you want to see first?”
“I think I would like to rob a train.”
Cole chuckled. The woman did have guts. “Then a train you shall rob. Let’s just hope you don’t get caught by some marshal.”
“Have you ever been to Dodge City?”
“Yes.”
“I have saved newspaper articles about it being...” She picked up the cuttings she had gathered. ‘“A perfect paradise for gamblers, cutthroats and girls.’” She flipped to the next one. “‘Fast men and fast women.’” Another, “‘The wickedest little city in America.”’ The next clipping. “‘Seventeen saloons furnish inspiration, and many people become inspired — not to say drunk. Every facility is afforded for the exercise of conviviality, and no restriction is placed on licentiousness.’” She laid the papers on the seat beside her. ”Would you say the critiques are correct in their depiction?”
“I’d say so,” Cole replied.
“Good. I would like to know the route you would take to get there.”
“Probably drop down to Wichita and over. Anything else?”
“I’ll let you know if there is.”
“Good night, Howard.” He nodded at Mrs. Alexander. “Good night.” He left, certain that this beauty had to be quite insane. Or else there was more behind her starched demeanor than he realized, such as a wild taste for adventure. He headed down the hall to where he’d bathed earlier, the Jones brothers trailing right behind him.
Later that night Cole’s door was unlocked from outside, and a man dressed in black stepped in.
“Well?” he asked.
“Send a wire that so far everything has worked out as planned,” Cole replied. “We’ll be leaving in two days.”
The man handed Cole a large envelope and left, locking the door behind him.
Cole made himself comfortable on the bed and read the familiar handwriting.
I know you’ve expressed a desire to quit my little organization, but I really need you on this one, Cole. The assignment certainly won’t bore you.
Grain destined for our forts is being augmented by chaff and something else. We’re lucky if we get half the grain originally purchased, and soldiers and their families have already been poisoned. The man who handles most of the grain is named Samuel King. He and some congressmen are in cahoots in this swindle, but the mastermind is Quin Turner. We have no description other than he is English and a tactical genius. His gang have wreaked havoc for over five years, killing and robbing, and of course stealing grain from the farmers. No one has been able to locate his headquarters. If we can get our hands on him, we’ll not only destroy a band of thieves, we will also have proof of the men in Washington involved in the swindle.
I arranged for one of Turner’s gang to escape from the Kansas State Prison so he can lead you to the others. His name is Tex Martin. He was followed to Independence, where he signed on with Mrs. Alexander. Now the bad part. Our spy was killed and the only description I have of Tex is that he has brown hair and no distinguishing features. As usual, you’re on your own to figure everything out and catch the scoundrel Quin Turner.
Also, knowing your reputation with women, I am ordering you to keep your britches up and your hands off Bethany Alexander. As bad luck would have it, the widow’s uncle is a senator. Not one under suspicion. The woman is a bit of an eccentric. The one good note is that the senator is seldom aware of her escapades and won’t interfere.
You and I both know you’re the best I have, and your disguise as an outlaw should work in your favor.
President Ulysses Grant.
Mrs. Alexander was a bit eccentric? That was putting it mildly. Cole lit a match to the paper, then dropped it in the fireplace. So much for his thoughts of bedding the beauty. As determined as Beth had been to see robbers, murders and Indians, he’d come to believe she was involved in his assignment. As it appeared now, she was nothing more than an innocent party. How ironic that she had been thrown into a situation very similar to what she was looking for, which in turn put more responsibility on his shoulders. He needed her help if he was to get to Turner.
The Turner gang. He’d heard rumors about them. Word was that all outlaws were welcomed, but, under penalty of death, each member had to take an oath to never reveal the location of the hideout or the names of the other members. For years lawmen and the government had tried to put an end to the band’s ravaging and slaughter. Now he was expected to take care of the matter with nothing more to go on than a man named Tex who no one could identify, and that was supposed to lead him to the hideout that no one could find.
Which one of the lady’s men had he disguised himself as? Could there possibly be a brother no one had known about?
After finishing this assignment, he was going to retire and purchase land in California.
Chapter Three
Cole twisted in the saddle, his dark eyes scanning the parade stretched out behind him. Satisfied that everything was moving well, he turned back around, his gaze automatically scanning the horizon for any signs of trouble. Even after being on the trail a week, sight of the caravan still left him speechless. For some reason that absolutely escaped him, a damn household was being transported from one spot to another. The only thing lacking was the wooden structure.
There were five new canvas-covered wagons, each being pulled by six yoked oxen. These were for the furniture and apparently every convenience known to mankind. Besides these, there were three additional farm wagons filled with supplies. The wagon wheels kicked up enough dust to be seen for miles around and would make a tempting parcel for any outlaw bands or Indians lurking about. Cole could only hope that marauders would mistake the dust for a small, well-armed wagon train and would prefer to give it a wide berth.
And then there was the menagerie of servants—eight men and four women in all. The rest of the flock consisted of five steers, one milk cow, horses, oxen, one pig and four sheep.
Though Mrs. Alexander’s entourage seemed never-ending, Cole had to admit it was well planned. The women handled the mending, cooking, serving and other womanly duties. The men drove the wagons, did the loading and unloading, set up tents and collected firewood, as well as doing anything else they were needed for. Besides their work on other chores, the Jones brothers were experts on wagon building and repairs, George Higgins was a blacksmith, Frank Doolan cared for the stock and Tucker Washington was a doctor. Evan White and Jeff Dobbs filled in where needed. Howard Bench kept Beth’s fancy carriage moving in front of the line to avoid the dust. It had become increasingly evident that her comfort was of the utmost importance. At least, as far as she was concerned.
Preferring to just observe for the time being, Cole hadn’t developed a close friendship with the men. However, he had learned that none of them would admit to ever having traveled through Kansas before. Tex Martin was keeping a low profile. Had Cole not been assigned to join this caravan, Beth could have found herself in a heap of trouble. She could have been stranded in some remote spot, having been attacked, with all her valuables gone. Indians would have taken care of the rest.
More than once Cole had seen Beth busily writing in a journal at night. Without a doubt, she was keeping a record of everything that transpired during the day. He wondered if her determination to be a writer was nothing more than a phase that would soon fade.
If Beth or Bethany—depending on who was talking about her — wasn’t riding in her carriage, she was on one of the three magnificent riding horses she’d brought along. Besides the two geldings, there was a black mare that was faster than any horse he’d ever seen. Beth had told the truth about her horsemanship. She handled the frisky animals as if she’d been born on one. The sidesaddle she used made the act all the more difficult. However, the lady had a bad habit of taking off in one direction or another, which led to his second complaint.
So far, they hadn’t even managed eight miles a day. The copper-haired dictator seemed to find an unending array of reasons for delays, none of which he deemed necessary.
Cole’s keen eyes scanned the tall grass and trees stretched out before him. It was still early spring, and the rains had been plentiful enough to leave behind a green sea of grass. The sky was blue and songbirds were in spectacular voice. He shifted his weight. It felt good to be in the saddle again.
Originally Cole had planned to leave Missouri and head straight into Kansas. He didn’t care to find some sheriff waiting around the bend and he’d hoped to avoid trains simply because he didn’t want some Pinkerton man hounding him. However, if her highness wanted to rob a train, Kansas wasn’t the right place. It would be better to stay in Missouri and head north, well away from everything. And he knew just the right spot.
“Cole! Cole Wagner!”
Cole groaned. What the hell did her majesty want this time? He turned his mount around and started back toward the caravan—which had already come to a stop. The lady was climbing out of her carriage when he brought his buckskin horse to a halt in front of her. He stared down at the woman, forced to admit that even beneath the heavy clothing the boss’s figure was something to behold — and untouchable, he reminded himself. The next few months were undoubtedly going to be a living hell — in more ways than one.
“I have to go behind the bush. Please try to remember that women are unable to relieve themselves as easily as men. Therefore more stops are going to have to be made along the way.”
Cole grinned at her lack of embarrassment. Other women would have turned ten different shades at having to admit to such. On the other hand, Beth could hardly be compared to other women. “Do you realize —”
“Surely this discussion can wait until after I’ve tended to my duty.”
Cole watched her hurry off toward a long line of tall shrubs, some thirty yards away. With that hat, veil and blue velvet riding dress, it was no wonder she continually fanned herself.
As the other women fell in behind Beth’s coach, Cole swung to the ground with the grace of a man used to being in the saddle. Sp far, they had yet to travel long enough for him to even grow saddle weary.
After five minutes, Cole pulled his hat down to shade his eyes from the afternoon sun. Another five minutes found him flicking the ends of his horse’s reins across his gloved palm. What the hell were the women doing? He glanced around at the men, who were patiently waiting.
Which is Tex Martin? Cole wondered. Certainly not the doctor, Washington Tucker. He and his wife were black. He had already decided that his only recourse was to cull the men out, one at a time.
Cole had started with Howard, Beth’s second in charge. Cole had spent more time visiting with him than anyone else in the caravan. Though it was doubtful Howard was the man Cole was looking for, Tex could have dyed his hair — and there were no age restrictions to go by.
Cole squatted, his thoughts still on Howard. The older man had even gone so far as to say that though he would protect Beth with his life, she was an absolutely unpredictable cavalier. He’d blamed it on money and having been on her own too long. But while Howard was so willingly informative, Cole knew the gentleman was also making his mind about whether the outlaw was trustworthy.
Cole checked his pocket watch. Another twenty minutes had passed, and his patience was nonexistent. He stood and looked toward the bush. “It’s time to head on!” he yelled.
Esther, Beth’s personal maid and companion, ran into view, her breathing already heavy from her exertion. “Mrs. Alexander has decided we will camp here for the day.”
“What?” Cole bellowed. “We can still get in four more hours of travel!”
The woman’s ample chest swelled with indignation. “Mrs. Alexander is bathing in the stream. It has been a week since she’s been allowed such pleasure, and she’s not about to forgo it!” Esther disappeared again into the foliage.
Magda, the cook, Lizzy, Tucker’s wife, and Molly Dee, another helper, were starting campfires for cooking. Some of the men were already unloading Madam Alexander’s furniture, while the others were setting up camp. Cole looked up at the sky, trying to keep a lid on his temper.
“Come, come, my friend,” Howard said as he walked from the carriage to where Cole stood. “You must learn to relax. Over the past ten years I have been on many trips with madam, and they are always the same. One eventually grows used to it.”
Cole’s temper had won the battle. “Maybe you, but not me.” He dropped the reins to the ground and started forward. He’d had enough of this foolishness.
After he had forced his way between the thick shrubbery, it quickly became apparent that neither Esther nor Mrs. Alexander had heard him approaching. Instead of harsh words, he was greeted with a titillating view of the “countess’s” slender bare back as she bent over on her knees, allowing Esther to rinse the soap from her hair. On any other occasion it would have been a pleasing sight, but Cole wasn’t feeling hospitable.
“What the hell is all this about? We’re supposed to be on a journey, not a social!”
“How dare you invade my toilette!” Beth stormed.
Cole received a considerable sense of pleasure at seeing the lady grovel for her blouse, then snatch it up to cover her breasts. “How dare you leave me standing while you pamper yourself? I wasn’t aware I’d be expected to wait over a half hour to finish what I had started to say! So I’ll spill it out now. If you plan to accomplish anything on this so-called journey, we sure as hell can’t be stopping every few minutes because of your whims. At the pace we’re going, it’ll take a month just to reach the area where you can rob your train! Believe me, that isn’t going to be easy with an entire caravan behind you!” He started to walk away, then turned back. “What do you think happens on wagon trains? They don’t stop, madam, except to water the stock.”
Still clutching her blouse in front of her, Beth climbed to her feet, her wet mane falling into her face. “Who do you think you are?” she asked while trying to shove her hair from her eyes. With the beard covering his face, it was impossible to see his expression. “I do not take orders from anyone, no matter who he may be!”
“It was you who caused this confrontation, not me.”
“Furthermore, I cannot tolerate a man who ignores gentlemanly manners,” Beth hissed.
“Then, lady, you had no business hiring an outlaw! But just to clear the air, my manners are unquestionable when there is a lady about, not some spoiled, thoughtless female who wants to lord it over everyone.”
A deep, guttural sound rolled from Beth’s throat. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that!”
“You pull another stunt like this, and I’m gone,” Cole warned.
“Fine. Go. Leave. I don’t need the likes of you.” With unwavering eyes Beth watched him turn on his heel and head back toward the wagons. As soon as he was out of sight, she shook her blouse and held it out for Esther. The water from her body and dripping hair had soaked it.
Esther hurried forward with a dry cloth. “He should never have talked to you like that. It’s good you got rid of him. He’s too brash.”
Beth bent over at the waist and began toweling her hair. “He can rant and carry on all he wants,” she said between clenched teeth, “but I know he isn’t going anywhere. He’s not about to leave without the money we agreed on, and I’m not about to give it to him until he shows me something I want to see!” Her hands paused. “Maybe it was a good thing we had this confrontation. He apparently needed to be reminded that I give the orders. Once he accepts that, he’ll settle down. I can’t really let him go. We need him to get to a town, then I’ll replace him.” She straightened. After her hair had been combed, she would let the afternoon sun finish drying it. “I think I’ll wear my hair in a braid from now on. It will prevent tangles. And while I’m thinking about it—”
“We don’t even know if the man owns a pistol,” Esther persisted. “So far all he’s done is prove he can stay on top of a horse.”
“Mmm. I have been thinking the same thing. When Decker and Wilber went to get him at the jail, Wagner told them he was quite harmless and the only reason he’d robbed a bank was to get money. His family needed food. A worthy cause, but certainly not the type of man I had hoped to hire.”
“His family? Is he married?”
Beth thought a minute. “I don’t know. I was told he was a wanted man, so I assumed he wouldn’t have a wife. Oh! The nerve of the man to speak to me like that!” Beth suddenly became very still. “Did I hear a horse gallop away?”
“I think so. You don’t supposed...”
Beth snatched her wet blouse from the grass and shoved her arms into the sleeves.
“You can’t go like that,” Esther said. “Wait until I at least get your corset.” But Beth was already on the run. Esther didn’t hurry after her. She knew that nothing distracted Bethany when she was in such a mood.
As soon as Beth cleared the bushes, she came to a halt. Her fingers were still working at the buttons on her blouse as she scanned the area around the wagons. Neither Cole nor his bedroll was anywhere in sight. “Howard!” she called as she raced forward.
Howard appeared from behind one of the supply wagons. There was little doubt in Beth’s mind that he had been imbibing the liquor she always carried on trips. “Where is Wagner?”
“He rode off. Would you like me to go after him?”
“No, I’ll take care of this myself. Get my gun and holster!” She continued on to where the big roan was tethered to a line rope.
By the time Beth had untied the lead, made a loop and placed it around the gelding’s muzzle, Howard had returned. He handed her the gun belt which she quickly buckled around her waist. The big .45 was shoved into the holster. He gave her a boost up onto the horse. After a few tugs at her skirt so her legs could hang down evenly, she looked back down at Howard.
“Which way did he go?”
The moment he pointed north, Beth sank her heels into the powerful roan’s sides.
As the horse sprang forward, Beth was considering the head start Cole had on her. It couldn’t be more than five minutes. If she pushed the gelding hard, she should be able to catch up with him. There had to be other criminals available who were agreeable and of a more gentlemanly nature. They would probably be even more familiar with the West than the man she had foolishly hired. Surely if the caravan continued on in the same direction they had been going, they would come upon the town Cole had mentioned. Or at least they would meet someone who could give them directions. But that wasn’t the issue. She had made an agreement with Cole Wagner and she’d be damned if she’d let him run out on her. She was the one to do the dismissing, not the other way around!
Cole leaned against the thick tree trunk, enjoying the shade. There was no doubt in his mind that his nemesis would be coming after him. Mrs. Alexander was not a woman who delegated such matters to others. Cole smiled. He didn’t want to make it too difficult for her to find him. Once she realized they were stranded and vulnerable without him, he’d have the leverage he wanted. Stopping every thirty minutes was going to come to a halt
Cole had sung only a couple of bars of “She’ll Be Comin’ Around the Mountain” when he heard the cadence of hooves pounding against the earth. The rider was in one hell of a hurry. He jumped to his feet. It took but a minute to move his horse behind the tree and cup his hand over the buckskin’s muzzle to prevent him from nickering. He had to be sure the rider wasn’t some sheriff. Cole had no desire to be looking down a lawman’s gun barrel. He should probably shave off his beard so he’d look less like the poster.
When Bethany Alexander rode by, Cole chuckled softly. Yes, indeed. The big boss was going to handle him all by herself. Her copper mane flying in the wind and her wet shirt clinging to full breasts was enough to set fire to any man’s loins.
He raised his fingers to his mouth and released a whistle loud enough to startle every creature for a mile around. Though her ladyship was already out of sight, he was certain she’d heard him.
Cole leaned his shoulder against the tree and waited. Would she be as wild in her lovemaking, or would she continue to act the authoritarian witch he’d had to put up with for over a week? The thought of her instructing him on how to make love brought a smile to his face.
When Beth came back into view she was holding her mount to an easy lope. Cole had already acknowledged that she was a capable horsewoman, but until now he’d had no idea just how good. What else was she an expert at? “Were you looking for me?” he asked when she stopped in front of him. He liked the fire that danced in her brown eyes and the flush in her cheeks from her wild ride.
“We had an agreement,” Beth snapped.
“You told me to leave.”
“You needed to be reminded who gives the orders. I’m beginning to think I’d be better off without you. So far you haven’t accomplished anything you agreed to. Now, mount up and we’ll return to camp.”
“Oh, no.” The material of her blouse was almost dry and no longer molded itself to her body. “We agreed on several things, but one of them wasn’t to give you a leisurely tour of the countryside. Just how do you plan on accomplishing anything if we can’t even average two miles an hour? We start out late morning, halt for a lengthy period every half hour or so, and set up camp early afternoon! I have no intention of spending the spring, summer and fall on this...journey. I plan to be on my way to California before winter sets in.”
Beth tossed her leg over the horse’s withers and slid to the ground. Not once did her gaze leave the outlaw. Though he hadn’t raised his voice, the precise words left no doubt that he was serious. She wanted to be prepared should he try anything.
“And just how do you think we should travel?” she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.
“You lied to me, lady.”
Beth rested her hand on the butt of her revolver. “What do you mean by that?”
“You said you wanted to learn about the real West. You’re never going to learn the way you’re traveling. I’m beginning to think you haven’t the salt for it.”
“That’s a lie!”
Cole was slowly closing the gap between them. He wanted to get his hand on her gun before she ended up harming both of them. Suddenly she pulled the weapon, pointed the barrel downward and squeezed off two shots. Both bullets hit the ground between his feet.
“That’s so you’ll know not to come any close.” Beth saw his jaw muscle twitch. He hadn’t taken kindly to being shot at. “Maybe now you’ll think twice about trying to disarm me.”
Cole stood his ground.
“Toss your horse’s reins over that branch above you.”
Cole was tempted to kick her feet out from under her, but instead he did as he was told. It galled him that a woman had actually gotten the draw on him.
“I’ll ride your buckskin and you can ride my roan back to camp. Don’t try to escape, because I would have no qualms about shooting you.” She reached out and handed him her mount’s lead rope. “You do know how to ride bareback, don’t you?”
“I think I can manage.” Cole pulled her horse to him, then taking a handful of mane, easily swung himself up on the steed’s back.
Keeping the gun pointed at Cole, Beth mounted his horse. The stirrups were too long, but that was of no consequence. “Before we go, there are a couple of things you should be aware of. If you ever come upon me again when I’m bathing, I shall have you killed. Secondly, I take an agreement very seriously. Should you try to escape I promise you’ll regret it. Have I made myself clear?”
“Quite,” Cole snapped back at her. Damn if she wasn’t making him her prisoner!
“Good. Then let’s be on our way.”
Cole turned his mount and started back to camp. This was definitely not going the way he’d planned it. The lady hadn’t even taken the bait when he’d said she hadn’t the salt needed to find out about the West.
As the copper-headed beauty rode behind him, Cole thought about what had just taken place. A grin slowly spread across his face. Things were getting interesting. He’d win out in the end, which made every order, inconvenience, gun pointing and any other undesirable situation worthwhile. He began whistling “The Bonnie Blue Flag.”
Not until their return to camp and Beth had given orders to keep an eye on Cole, did she truly feel safe. There had been a certain air about Cole Wagner that left her with the impression that he was biding his time—possibly even toying with her.
As she made her way to the big tent near the stream, she pondered what would have happened had Cole given her any trouble. It had been a miracle that she’d managed to put two bullets between his feet instead of shooting him in the boot. She was accurate with a rifle, but so far she hadn’t managed the art of drawing a revolver from the holster and shooting a target. Of course, she could never have killed him for backing out on their agreement, no matter how angry she had been. After all, only minutes before he’d ridden off, she had been thinking about replacing him.
“Did you bring him back?” Esther inquired the moment Beth stepped inside the tent.
“You need not sound so worried. Of course I brought him back.” Beth unbuckled her gun belt and tossed it onto a low table. “As soon as I get out of these dirty clothes, I’d like a cup of that tea you’re brewing.”
Beth unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall onto the huge ornamental rug. The rest of the clothes quickly followed. A heavy sigh of pleasure escaped her lips when she slipped into the ruby red silk caftan Esther handed her. “I’m surprised that all European and American women haven’t died from wearing so much clothing.”
“So you’ve said before.”
Beth lounged on several of the brightly colored pillows scattered about the floor.
“Did the outlaw give you any trouble?” Esther inquired as she handed Beth her tea.
“No, none whatsoever.” Beth sipped the delicious brew. “Mmm. Just what I needed.”
“You should have let him go. What kind of man would allow a woman to take him prisoner?” Esther moved to a low chair near Beth. “If you ask me, I think your outlaw is a coward. He’s nothing like the magnificent men you have known over the years.”
“Call it woman’s intuition, but I have a hunch we’re misjudging him. However, I still fail to understand why he doesn’t wear a gun...especially when we are in the wilds. All my people are armed.”
“And rightly so. Here’s a thought. Perhaps he doesn’t know how to shoot.”
Beth drew up her knees and wrapped her arm around them. “Then if he isn’t an outlaw in the truest sense, and if he doesn’t know how to shoot, why doesn’t he show any fear?”
“Nothing has happened to frighten him.”
“Don’t you find it strange that he’s never shown any concern for his well-being? There is a hardness...” She set her teacup on the floor beside her. “It’s difficult to explain.”
“I also mentioned to Howard the possibility that Cole is out to get your money.” It took several tries before Esther managed to pull herself to her feet. “He has to know about the money you’re carrying. How else would you be able to pay for everything?”
“Esther, you keep contradicting yourself. You say he is a coward who can’t shoot, then you turn right around and say he is planning to steal everything I own! As long as he does what I want, you can stop concerning yourself over the matter.”
“You can’t keep him a prisoner forever.”
Beth grabbed a pillow and shoved it behind her back. “Do you know what ‘not having the salt to learn’ means?”
“Salt? Mercy, no.”
“That’s what Cole said to me. It sounded more like accusation. Oh, well, it isn’t of any significance. He also complained about the lack of time we spend traveling. Perhaps he and I need to talk. I believe I’ll have him dine with me. Yes. That’s what I’ll do. As soon as you pour me another cup of tea, go tell Magda I want her special chicken tonight, as well as several of her other delicious dishes...and a custard.”
“Don’t you think –”
“Hush. I don’t want to hear anything more about it.”
When Cole entered the big tent and saw Beth, he had an immediate, unexpected, erection. Lord a-mighty! He was reacting like some young pup who had never had a woman. Yet in all fairness he sure as hell hadn’t expected to see his hostess in such a costume. Howard had warned him to be prepared for anything, and he should have listened. She’d never catch him off guard like this again.
In an effort to take his mind off the fetching female, Cole glanced around the interior of the tent. It was like stepping into another world. A large rug covered the floor, and an assortment of brass objects were scattered about. He had no idea what they were used for. The furniture consisted of a lot of colorful pillows and low tables and chairs.
Having regained his composure, he let his gaze shift back to the object of his discomfort. Bethany Alexander was reclined against some of the pillows. Her skirt, made of green-and-blue sparkling material, barely covered her hips, leaving a clear view of a flat stomach and a jewel embedded in her navel. The upper portion of her costume allowed just enough material to cover her breasts. Diaphanous veils of various colors draped from the top of her head and extended over creamy white shoulders and body. Her long, thick mane hung down her back, with short copper curls caressing her smooth cheeks.
“I hope you don’t intend to remain there all night. Do come in.”
“Do you often dress for supper like that?” he asked. Even he was amazed at how calm he sounded.
Beth laughed. “Only on special occasions. You see, I am just finishing my book on Turkey, and it helps me to write when I can create the right atmosphere. This is what women wear in Turkey. Do you like it?” She didn’t bother to inform him that it was a belly dancer’s costume.
Cole heard a jingling noise when she moved a bare foot. Only then did he notice the tiny bells circling her small ankles. He cleared his throat. Traveling with this woman certainly brought its surprises. “It’s different,” he finally replied. At this moment he couldn’t think of a thing he wanted more than to grab the beauty, lift her onto the pillows and make unrestrained love for the rest of the evening. “At first I thought you might be out to seduce me.”
“And what would you say if I was?”
Convinced she was now safe, she was playing with him. The whole thing verged on the unbelievable. Here he was in a situation that any man might dream of, yet he had to keep his britches up! “I’d have to refuse.” He chuckled. “I never let a woman bed me unless we’re well acquainted.”
“Surely you must find me... tempting?” she asked good-naturedly.
He had to say something that would keep her away from him. More specifically, keep him from her. “Contrary to what you may think, I do have my morals.” He rather enjoyed taking a virginal woman’s side of the issue.
Beth broke out laughing. She laughed so hard tears began rolling down her cheeks. She had deliberately set out to shock him, only to end up with the man preaching morality!
“Maybe I should come back another time.”
“No, no,” Beth managed to say. “The...food is... ready.” As she tried to regain control of herself, she pointed to the other side of the table, motioning her guest to be seated.
After wiping her eyes and blowing her nose on the handkerchief she retrieved from beneath one of the pillows, Beth realized the outlaw was still standing just inside the tent. “Come, sit down. I don’t bite. I take it you haven’t been around many women.”
Not any quite like you, Cole thought. “I’ve known a few.”
Beth wished he would shave off that confounded beard so she could get a good look at his face.
Cole moved forward. “Where am I supposed to sit?”
“On one of the pillows.” Beth suddenly wondered why she had felt the need to taunt this man. She should have been aware of his shyness. Or was it shyness? He hadn’t been backward when he complimented her in Independence. He had said she was a vision of loveliness. A shy man didn’t come up with words like that. “I’ve had a special meal prepared just for you.”
“I’d prefer it if you’d tell me the purpose of my being here.” Cole sat on a pillow, then tried to figure out what he was supposed to do with his long legs.
“You said we needed to talk about our trip. I thought this was a more civilized way of doing it than yelling at each other.”
Cole finally crossed his legs Indian-style. “What I’ve been trying to tell you—”
“Let’s wait until after we have eaten. It isn’t proper to discuss business during a meal.”
As the women began parading in with various bowls of food, the delicious aroma quickly permeated the air, making Cole’s mouth water. Having eaten only a couple of biscuits that morning, he was ready for a good meal.
Cole pitched right in. The bowls didn’t have a lot in them, but he still managed goodly-sized portions on his plate. None of the dishes looked familiar, but he wasn’t picky. He took a big bite of the chunky meat.
Beth raised her finger, but the food had already disappeared into Cole’s mouth. She flinched when his eyes became large circles of obsidian.
Cole was convinced the woman had tried to kill him. The hot spices were not only cooking his mouth, his skin was turning red! He glanced around the table for water, even though he knew it would only make the burning worse. There was none. Not even a saltcellar to sprinkle salt in his mouth. His eyes watering, he snatched up the glass filled with heaven knew what and downed the contents. Gawd almighty! It was vinegar! He jumped to his feet and ran out of the tent, already removing his coat and welcoming the feel of fresh air against his hot flesh. Each breath he took was like inhaling fire.
“Are...are you all right?”
Cole spun around and glowered at his hostess.
“I started to tell you the food was spicy, but you had already taken a bite.” Beth raised her hand to her throat. There was no warmth in those black eyes staring back at her. “I had wanted something different to serve you. I’m used to the food, so I had forgotten how hot Turkish food can seem to others.” Seeing his breathing was returning to normal, she relaxed somewhat. She honestly felt bad about what had happened. “If you’ll come back in, I’ll get you some water and have Magda prepare something more to your liking.”
“I’m not hungry.” He started to walk away.
“What did you mean when you said I have no salt for the West?”
Cole kept walking. “Guts, lady, guts,” he called over his shoulder.
Beth watched him walk away. Impossible man. Why was she singling him out from the others? All she had to do was give him an order or spend five minutes listening to what he had to say. It certainly didn’t require asking him to dine with her.
She went back inside the tent. The food was getting cold and she was hungry. Strange, she hadn’t noticed how broad Cole’s shoulders were until he’d taken off his coat. No guts, indeed! Just wait. She’d show him.
Chapter Four
When the sun touched the western horizon, Cole waved for the caravan to make camp. Seeing they had stopped, he scouted on for another mile, making sure there wasn’t any trouble waiting ahead. Satisfied, he turned his buckskin around and headed back to where he’d left the others.
As he relaxed in the saddle, Cole was feeling a bit euphoric over how smoothly the past few days of travel had gone. Each morning camp broke shortly after dawn. They stopped for a quick noon meal, then continued on until a half hour before sunset. There had been no unnecessary delays, nor had he heard a complaint. Though he hadn’t spoken to Beth since the supper disaster, he knew she was the only one who could have arranged the changes. But rather than ponder on how long this routine was going to last, he preferred to enjoy it while he could.
As soon as Cole guided his horse around a big, stately oak tree, the caravan came back into view. The wagons were in a horseshoe alignment, food was already cooking on the campfires and tents and cots were being set up. Except for Beth and himself, it was arranged so the men slept on one side of the camp and the women on the other. Beth slept on a comfortable bed in her tent, while he preferred the ground, some distance from the wagons. Should there be an attack, the marauders would head for the main group, leaving him free to defend the others.
A short distance from the wagons Cole dismounted, then untied the rawhide strips that kept his bedding snug against the cantle. After laying out his bedroll between a pair of willow trees, he unbuckled the cinch and pulled the saddle and blanket from his horse’s back. The smell of food cooking was pleasing to his nose as well as his stomach.
Cole was leading his buckskin to the stream for watering when he heard Doolan approaching from behind. The young man took his job as horse groom very seriously.
“I’ll take it from here, sir,” Doolan said.
Cole nodded and handed over the reins. He was starting to like having everything done for him. It would be an easy life to get used to. He glanced at the tall, lanky groom. Frank Doolan had to be nearing twenty, but he was still as clumsy as a floundering stud. He seemed too young to be Tex Martin, but at this point Cole couldn’t afford to rule anyone out.
Cole decided to follow along. He had discovered the boy was of a talkative nature. A great source for information. “How long have you worked for Beth?”
“Eleven years,” Doolan said proudly.
“You were just a boy when you started.”
“Yes, sir. My folks got killed in a fire, and Mrs. Alexander – it was Mrs. Jarvis then—insisted her first husband let me learn to be a groom.”
Two husbands? Cole wondered. “I suppose before much longer you’ll be wanting to head off on your own.” If he could get rid of Frank Doolan, that would be one less man he’d have to be suspicious of.
Doolan thought a minute. “I got everything I could possibly want. I’ve traveled all over and the mistress takes real good care of her people. But to be honest, sir, I’m going to have to make some changes soon.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It isn’t easy to talk about. Promise you won’t laugh or say anything to the others?”
“Whatever you say is safe with me.”
“Well, you see... I mean... I’ve never had a woman,” Doolan finally blurted out. “Molly Dee knows, and she teases me something awful.”
Molly Dee assisted the cook, Magda, and did any duties handed down by Esther. The pretty brunette was always giving Cole friendly smiles, and if she knew he was watching she would make a point of suggestively swinging her hips when she walked. Molly Dee was definitely a flirt.
“I have an awfully bad yearning, and sometimes I think I’m just going to split my bitches. I thought...well, I thought...”
The boy led the buckskin into the water, then let him lower his head to drink. The honking sounds made Cole look to the sky. The Canadian geese were quite a sight flying against the backdrop of the descending sun. They were headed north. The weather was still cool at night, but that would change before long. “I’m surprised your mistress hasn’t thought to take care of that matter for you.”
“She’d never think of bedding –”
Cole chuckled. “That wasn’t what I meant. It’s a situation I’d have expected her to rectify, especially since she seems hell-bent on ruling mankind. Surely you’ve been places where your problem could be taken care of?”
“Yes, but I could never get up the guts to go in a whorehouse by myself.”
“You want some advice, Doolan?”
Doolan lowered his head. “N...yes, sir.”
“My advice is not to worry about it. All things happen in due time. There’s nothing wrong with a man being a virgin, Doolan. How come you haven’t talked about this to one of the other men?”
Doolan stroked the horse’s thick neck. “They treat me like a boy. They never speak of women and such things when I’m around. I tell you, Cole, I believe a man needs to experience life before he goes and commits himself to a woman.”
Cole nodded. “You planning on marrying soon?”
“No, I was just expressing how I feel. I guess I’m trying to ask if you’d maybe...when this is all over would you go with me to... ?”
Cole patted the boy’s shoulder. “Just give it time. So, the mistress has been married twice, huh? That’s a lot of marriages for a woman so young.”
“She’s twenty-eight!”
“Oh, really?” Cole grinned. “That old, huh?” he teased.
“Yes, sir.”
The horse stopped drinking, and the two men headed toward the meadow.
“She’s actually been married three times.”
Cole raised a brow. “Is that where she came by all her money?”
“Her husbands were very wealthy.”
“She probably killed them off with her food.”
“Her first husband, Ernest Jarvis, was in his sixties when they married. His heart gave out.”
Cole wondered if it had happened while the man was enjoying his conjugal rights.
“I’ve heard tell the marriage was arranged by her uncle. The second husband, Cornelious Webber, was in his eighties and as proud as all get-out to have such a beautiful woman by his side. He died in his sleep. The third husband, Mr. Alexander, was a mean bastard. No one grieved when he was robbed and murdered.” Doolan raked his fingers through his sandy-colored hair. “I’ll say one thing, they all had a flair for living even if some did die young. I probably shouldn’t be telling you all this.”
“A man has to have someone to talk to. Besides, it’s all in the past.”
“True.”
“Sounds as if Mrs. Alexander has spent most of her life married.”
“Several years ago I overheard Esther tell Magda that the mistress was married at sixteen and widowed at seventeen. The three marriages only lasted a little over five years.”
They stopped in the meadow. The sun had already disappeared and dusk was quickly turning into night. Cole inhaled deeply. The light fog rolling in made everything smell damp.
“Frank, what do you know about Evan, George and the others? Do you feel they’re good at their trade, reliable and that sort of thing? The reason I’m asking is because if we should be attacked by Indians or such, I’d like to know who I can rely on to help in the fight.”
“I think you could rely on all of them. They may tease me, but they’re good, hardworkin’ men.” Doolan removed a short rope from his back pocket. He hobbled the buckskin then slipped off the bridle so the horse could graze with the others. Both men heard the clanging sound informing everyone that supper was ready.
Cole was a bit disappointed. Apparently Frank had no information that might help him track down Tex. Doolan couldn’t be the outlaw if he had indeed been with Beth for so long. An easy fact to check out.
“How much longer before we reach our first destination?” Doolan asked as they made their way back to the caravan.
“At our present pace, about three days.”
“Cole!”
Cole turned and saw Howard Bench coming toward him.
“Beth would like you to eat in her tent tonight.”
Cole groaned. He didn’t want another night of going without supper. He’d much prefer eating with the others. “When am I supposed to make my command appearance?”
Howard chuckled. “She said right away.”
Cole watched Howard and Doolan hurry off to the long table, where the others were already starting their meal. His gaze shifted to the tent off to itself. He’d be damned if he’d bathe, as he had last time. He moved forward. No sense putting off the inevitable. If he hurried, he might get away before all the food had disappeared from the long table.
“May I come in?” Cole called when he reached the canvas opening. This time he was prepared for anything.
“By all means.”
Assuring himself that this would be brief, Cole ducked his head and entered the feline’s den. Again he was taken aback by the sight before him. Everything had been changed. Now the furniture was dark, big and heavy. Though the tent was the same, it now appeared to be much smaller. To add to the overwhelming picture, Mrs. Alexander had on a heavily beaded black bolero, with a white, ruffled shirt front and a bright red waistband. The black satin pants were molded to long, perfect legs and ended just below her knees. White hose covered the rest of her legs and black slippers completed the costume.
“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”
“Working on another book?”
“No. Who wants to dress the same all the time?”
Cole’s gaze traveled back up to the beautiful face. Her hair had been pulled tightly back into a knot on top of her head, exposing an oval face with a proud brow, large, heavily fringed brown eyes, high cheekbones and a wide mouth with full, tempting lips.
“Are you just going to stand and stare at me?”
“Since you’ve gone to all this trouble, I assumed you wanted a complete assessment.” He removed his hat.
“I hope you don’t think I did this just for you.” Beth took his top hat and placed it on a small, heavily carved side table. “However, since you mention it, are my furnishings more to your liking?”
“Well.” He pretended to consider his answer. “I would say it depended on what you wanted to use it for.”
“And my clothes?”
Cole chuckled. Mistress Alexander was fishing for a compliment. “Again, it would depend on what you had in mind.”
“That’s no answer.”
Cole’s grin broadened. “I know. That way I don’t get myself into trouble.”
“I’m wearing a matador’s suit.” Seeing his blank expression, she added, “It’s what the men wear in Spain when they fight bulls.”
Cole looked at the small table that had been set for two. “Why would any man want to fight a bull?” he asked offhandedly. This was all taking too long. There would be no leftovers if they continued to chat. He wondered what she planned to feed him tonight. “Did Howard make a mistake when he said we would be sharing supper?”
Beth was becoming vexed. What was it about her that he didn’t find attractive? “No, he made no mistake. I guess we should eat.”
Cole went straight to the table, but to Beth’s delight, when he pulled out a chair, he motioned for her to be seated. The man had manners after all. She was suddenly curious as to his background. “I had a special dinner prepared.”
Cole managed to hold in his groan. She had said the same thing at the last meal. He looked at the fine china and sterling settings. He was trying damn hard to get along with this woman, but she wasn’t making it easy.
“You will be pleased to know that there are no hot spices in the food. Though I’m wearing clothes from Spain, I selected pasta dishes from Italy. I thought they might be more to your liking.” She clapped her hands.
Molly Dee immediately appeared carrying a large bowl of something white. It reminded Cole of worms. When Molly Dee set it on the table, Cole wondered if her breast brushing against his shoulder had been an accident. Magda was right behind the cute little brunette, with two smaller bowls.
“Please, serve yourself,” Beth said eagerly. She had always loved to entertain. Unfortunately, Cole was the only one she had to practice on. “The sauce goes on top of the pasta. Eating it can be a bit tricky.”
Why not? Cole thought. Heaven forbid that she would serve plain, simple food.
Beth demonstrated how to use a fork and spoon to eat the pasta. Even so, it took several attempts before Cole managed to get the long, stringy stuff from the plate to his mouth. Once he had the knack of it, Beth scooted up in her chair, waiting for his praise. She wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not. “Well?”
Prepared for the worst, Cole had steeled himself for the first unwanted bite. Therefore it took a moment for him to realize the food was messy but quite good. He smiled and nodded appreciatively. Not until Beth clapped her hands with glee did he realize the importance of his approval. She quickly filled her own plate.
Remembering that last time Beth had said there was to be no business discussed during the meal, Cole settled down to a delectable supper. Before long he found himself wondering who the real Bethany Alexander was. It seemed that every time he was around her, she acted like a different person. Minutes ago her face had mirrored the delight of a child. Howard had once mentioned something about her being lonesome. Perhaps he had been right.
When his appetite was satisfied, Cole leaned back in his chair and sipped the black coffee that had been served. For the moment he was at peace with the world.
“How much farther will we be traveling before the train robbery?”
Apparently supper was over and business could now be discussed. “Three days,” he replied. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you for changing our traveling routine. I know it must be a considerable inconvenience for you. It’s because of the extra hours of travel that we’ll make final camp so soon. Tomorrow we’ll pass within four miles of a town.” Her excitement was apparent. “However, I don’t think it would be wise to stop.”
“Why? There are things—”
“I thought the purpose of all this was so you could find out about train robbers? Believe me, they don’t make a habit of announcing their presence to a sheriff and a town full of people. If at all possible, they avoid easy identification.”
“So we’ll just travel on?”
“You and the caravan will travel on.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that Doolan and I are riding to town.”
Beth leaned forward, any trace of humor gone. “Are you planning to return?”
“Don’t worry. I could have left you any time I wanted. But as long as everything continues to move smoothly I have no intentions of going anywhere. I want my money. It will help buy land when I go to California.”
Beth remembered him mentioning that before. “Why can’t we all go? I’m sure the others would enjoy seeing a town for a change.”
“Come, come Beth. Don’t you think a caravan like this one would be a bit conspicuous? Bruster is a small town.”
“I’ll go with—”
“I’ll take Doolan. We can pick up any supplies needed and make sure there aren’t any Pinkerton men about. I also need to check on the train schedule.”
“I thought we had already established who is in charge here.”
Cole rested his elbows on the table. “And I thought you wanted to know what it was like to rob a train. All this traveling and staying out of view is exactly what a bandit would do. The only difference is the manner in which he would travel and the way you’re doing it. Have you devised a plan for robbing the train and figured out how many men you’re going to need?”
“I’m working on it.”
Cole knew she didn’t have the slightest idea how to address the situation. “Permit me to offer some advice.”
“I’m the robber—the one who is supposed to figure everything out.” Nevertheless, Beth watched closely as Cole creased lines on the tablecloth with the blunt edge of his knife.
Cole made crisscrossed lines in several places. “This is your train. You are going to need someone to get to the front —” he pointed to it “— and get the engineer to stop. While he’s doing that, others have to enter by the back. There will only be one passenger car. Naturally you’ll want guns to be drawn in case someone wants to put up a fight.”
Beth’s face became ashen. “Are you saying we may have to shoot someone?”
“When you’re an outlaw, there is always that possibility. Some people don’t take kindly to being robbed.”
“But I really don’t want to rob anyone. I just want to see what it’s like to do it.”
Cole shrugged his shoulders. “I hope the people on the train understand that. Now, you’re also going to need someone to stay with the horses and have them ready when you exit the train. You don’t want to get shot while leaving.”
“You’ve left out one very important detail. How do we get on the train?”
“That’s the simplest part. You ride your horse up alongside and climb on.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“Dead serious.”
“While the train is moving?”
“How else do you plan to stop it? You might consider getting a man’s saddle and some britches. You could get your foot caught up in a skirt hem and kill yourself. Of course, if you want to change your mind about this...” He raised a dark eyebrow and waited.
“No, I’m not going to change my mind. I always finish what I set out to do. I don’t want to hear any more. As I told you, this is my holdup.”
“But of course. You will have several days to work it out. I’m curious why a lady of your financial standing would even want to do any of this.”
“Research. Purely research. Besides, money isn’t everything. It is time for me to start doing something constructive with my life.”
Cole stood and made a slight bow. “The supper was excellent, my lady. I thank you for all the trouble you went to.” He snatched up his hat before exiting the tent. Yes, sirree, the woman did talk a good story. Of course, come time to commit the crime, the lady would undoubtedly change her mind.
As Cole drove the farm wagon down one of the back streets of Bruster, he kept scanning the area for any sight of the bald-faced nag the traveling sheriff rode. How long had it been? Six years since he last visited the town? Something like that. It wasn’t a large town, but it was sufficient for the surrounding farms. He brought the horses to a halt in front of a large saloon.
“Why are we stopping here?” Doolan inquired.
“I figured we could both use a drink.”
Doolan jumped from the wagon and followed Cole inside. It was only around ten in the morning, so there were few customers. As he sidled up to the bar, Doolan was feeling more like a man than he ever had. There was something about being around Cole that made him feel different than when he was with the others. Maybe that was because Cole didn’t treat him as if he were still in short pants.
“A couple of whiskeys,” Cole told the bartender. He pulled a coin from his pocket and slapped it on the bar. “Is Dahlia still here?” he asked when the bartender had filled the shot glasses.
“Yeah, I’m still here. Who wants to know?”
Cole downed the shot, then turned toward the voice. Dahlia had to be in her early fifties, but very little had changed. She was overweight, her hair was dyed a gaudy bright red and her two-layer-deep makeup did little to hide the wrinkles. Nevertheless, she’d always been a fair woman and treated her girls well.
“Cole?” Dahlia pulled her wire-rimmed glasses from between her large breasts and took a harder look. “Son of a bitch! Cole Wagner. It is you!” She hurried forward and threw her ample arms around him.
“You haven’t changed,” Cole said fondly.
Dahlia released him and stepped back. “Well, I sure as hell can’t say the same about you. Why are you dressed like that, you handsome devil? Look at that stupid hat. And that beard. I ain’t never seen you with a beard.” She laughed with delight. “You aimin’ to braid it?”
Cole grinned good-naturedly. “Dahlia, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. Doolan, this is Dahlia, the best woman for miles around.”
Doolan blushed at the brazen way Dahlia looked him over. He wasn’t sure what to think about all this. How had these two come to know each other?
“I’ll be damned. You brung me a green one.”
Cole chuckled. Dahlia knew her men. “Doolan is fixing to become twenty. I figured it was time he learned a few things about women.”
Doolan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You mean...”
“Knowing you have the best girls in the county,” Cole continued, ignoring his young friend, “I knew you would pick him out someone special.”
Doolan licked his lips. Was he honestly going to get to be with a woman — naked and everything?
“I got just the one,” Dahlia crooned. “Bill,” she called to the bartender, “call down Credence.”
Doolan was feeling as skittish as a turpentined cat. “Can I talk with you a minute in private?” he asked Cole.
“Sure thing.” Cole winked at Dahlia and moved several feet away. “What is it, Doolan?”
“What if I...I mean, you know... can’t do it.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Well, you know I’ve never... Don’t you need me to help get supplies?”
“Are you telling me you don’t want to go through with this?”
“I just don’t want...” Doolan forgot what he was about to say. His eyes were fastened on the tall blonde coming down the stairs. The only thing she had on was a girdle that pushed her creamy white breasts up, and a gossamer thing that reached the floor and hid nothing. He’d never seen anything so beautiful.
Cole laughed. “You’ll do just fine, Doolan. I’m sure you haven’t a thing to worry about.” Cole doubted that the boy had even heard what he’d said. He saw Dahlia’s slight nod, indicating to Credence which man was her customer.
Credence walked up to Doolan, who looked as if he were frozen in ice. “Oh,” she said as she ran her fingers through his hair, “you’re a handsome one.”
Doolan grinned like a sick puppy.
Credence took his hand. “Why don’t you come upstairs with me?”
Cole reached into his pocket and pulled out some money. “It will be a while before I return,” he stated as he handed Dahlia the money. “See that the boy has a good time.”
“I can’t take your money, Cole. Hell, if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have this business.”
Cole gave it to her, anyway. “Tell me, has Sheriff Biggs been in these parts lately?”
“No, he tried shootin’ it out with some young kid. They buried him nearly a year ago. The new sheriff never comes here ’cause nothin’ ever happens. You’re free to go where you please.”
Cole grinned. “I’ll see you later.”
As Cole drove out of town, Frank Doolan couldn’t stop talking about how well Credence had said he’d performed. “She told me she’d never had anyone who could keep doing it time after time. Damn! I sure do feel good!”
“I hope she showed you how to please a woman, because you’ll come to learn that it’s a lot better when a woman is enjoying it as much as you are.”
“Credence showed me what women like.”
“All women aren’t the same.”
“Why, once I went a whole ten minutes before I... Well, you know what I mean,” he said proudly.
Cole chuckled. “Is that so? Then I guess the next thing you have to learn is not to go around bragging about how good you are, because, I assure you, there is always someone better.”
“Maybe you can teach me more,” Doolan said, still unable to contain his excitement.
“No, you’re on your own.”
Doolan shook his head. “I never knew it could feel so good. If I had, I’d of done it a long time ago. You have to be the best friend a man could ever have to go and do something like this for me.” He slapped his leg. “Damned if I don’t feel like bowling.”
“Then by all means, go right ahead.”
It was a good two miles before Doolan’s voice gave out and the howling ceased. It seemed as if the boy now had a permanent smile plastered on his face. Cole welcomed the blessed silence. He was remembering a long time ago when a woman had taken him to her bed for the first time. Like Doolan, he’d thought he had just been handed the world.
Chapter Five
Large drops of rain were already striking the ground when Cole raised his hand for the caravan to come to a halt. It had been a dreary day, but at least they had arrived at their destination before the storm broke. The dark clouds rolling overhead left no doubt that they were in for a downpour. He guided his horse beneath a tall tree, then swung from the saddle.
“Is this it?” Beth asked as she came alongside him.
“Yep. This is where the caravan will remain camped while you play train robber.” He reached down and loosened the saddle girth. “You might want to tell the men you picked to go with us that we’ll be taking off first thing in the morning.”
“Where is the railroad?”
“About a day and a half ride due north. We’ll be camping overnight on the way there and on the way back, so we’ll need provisions.”
Beth reined the feisty mare around until she was again facing Cole. “Aren’t you going to help me down?”
Cole pulled on his duster. “That’s not my job. However, I can be bribed.”
Beth laughed. “With what?”
Cole was sorely tempted to tell her that for a night in bed together she could have just about anything she wanted. “One of those pasta suppers tonight?”
Beth’s face lit up with pleasure. “You have a deal. But maybe I should have Magda fix –”
“Please, the pasta will be fine.” Cole stepped to her black mare’s side and reached up. His hands easily spanned Beth’s tiny waist as he lifted her from the sidesaddle. Common sense told him not to play with fire, but it amused him to see the smug look on her face disappear as he slowly lowered her down the length of him.
Realizing the outlaw was showing interest in her, Beth’s heart leapt. There was something about this man that definitely attracted her. When their faces were only inches apart he held her still, her body molded against his. She was staring into a pair of fathomless dark eyes. Passionate eyes that...“Are you thinking about kissing me?” Allowing her curiosity full rein, Beth closed her eyes and waited.
Cole smiled. Tempting. Very tempting, but it would only lead to trouble. “I was inhaling your perfume.”
Beth’s eyes flew open.
“I’ve never smelled anything like it.” Cole stood her on her feet. “It’s pleasing to the nostrils.”
“I gave you an invitation!”
“An invitation to what?”
“To kiss me!”
“Oh. I didn’t realize.” Cole leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the lips.
“That’s it?”
Cole shrugged.
Beth glared at him while unconsciously slapping her quirt against her thick skirt.
“You’d best get beneath some shelter.” Cole saw Doolan running toward them. “The rain is worsening and you’ll catch your death if you get soaked.”
“I don’t melt like sugar,” she seethed.
“But I do.”
Doolan quickly gathered the horses’ reins. “The men will have your tent set up in no time, Mrs. Alexander.” He took off running, with the horses in tow.
Cole pulled Beth beneath the limbs of the tree. “Looks like you’re going to have to wait here.”
“Why didn’t you kiss me properly?” Both asked as she brushed away the droplets of water that clung to her green velvet riding gown.
Cole grinned. “I think you overestimate men. Why don’t you put that in the journal you’re keeping?”
“What do you mean, I overestimate men?” Again Beth became lost in the depths of those dark, penetrating eyes. She had to force herself to turn away and watch the others hurriedly setting up camp. The rain was heavier now.
“I think the average man is shy, or maybe I should say cautious. He has only had a few female encounters before marrying and settling down. He spends a lot of time around other men and he’s not nearly as experienced with the opposite sex as he would like women and other men to believe.”
“Are you describing yourself?” Had she misread the passion in his eyes only moments ago?
“Probably, but I never married.”
“Did some woman break your heart?”
Cole broke out in a hearty laugh.
“What is so funny?”
Suddenly the wind kicked up, causing the rain to come in torrents. Cole could no longer see the wagons parked some thirty-odd yards away. Within seconds the water had worked its way through the thick leaves and branches of the tree and was dripping on both of them. Lightning cracked and danced about. It had all happened so quickly.
Cole removed his duster and draped it over Beth. “We’re going to have to make a dash for that shallow ditch!”
The thunder was deafening and Beth didn’t hear what he’d said. As Cole started to move her from the protection of the tree, she balked. “I’m not going anywhere!”
Lacking time for explanations, Cole picked Beth up and ran. Raindrops hammered his face. Having to slosh across muddy ground made the distance seem twice as long. He didn’t see the ditch bank until he stumbled over it. He toppled forward, landing in a muddy pool with Beth beneath him.
“What are you trying to do?” Beth tried scrambling out from under him. “Drown me?” Seeing that the outlaw was making no effort to move, she frantically twisted and shoved, desperately needing to draw fresh air into her lungs. “Dammit, get off me!” Furious at being held down, she gathered all her strength, braced her back against the muddy bank and shoved. Cole rolled off her, but her legs were still pinned beneath him.
“Is this some way of getting even?” Beth yelled. “If you wanted me dead, why didn’t you just shoot me?”
Finally able to sit up, Beth tried wiping the mud from her face. It took the rain pouring down to clear her vision. It would take forever to get her hair, body and clothes clean!
Just then lightning struck the tree they had been standing beneath only minutes ago, followed by a crack of thunder that put Beth’s nerves on end.
“Oh, Lord,” she whispered.
The tree made an eerie sound as the thick trunk split in half, then burst into flames.
Beth’s body was shaking. She could have been killed had Cole not forced her into this ditch. She hated being in the wrong, but even more, she hated apologizing. She looked down at the man beside her just as another bolt of lightning crackled through the air. It allowed her a momentary view of closed eyes and a cut on Cole’s forehead. She was sick with guilt. He had to have hit a rock when he fell. Was he unconscious or... dead? She untied the wet silk scarf from her neck and placed it around his wound, hoping to stop the bleeding. As if decreed by God, the rain began to subside.
“Decker!” Beth yelled. “Jeff!” Hearing nothing, she called again. And again...and again. Finally she thought she heard voices. “Here!” she hollered. “We’re over here!”

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