The Lone Texan

CHAPTER 14

BONNIE AWOKE TO THE SMELL OF STEW. THE AIR around her was warm and dry, but the tapping rain still sounded above her. She took a deep breath. Fresh beef stew boiling in a pot not far away. Smiling a moment before opening her eyes, her thoughts drifted as if trying to remember a home that had almost been real. A place where she used to imagine she lived when she was young. As soon as the adult in her reminded her there never had been such a home, she realized where she was. Not in a dream. Not safe.

Her hand shot up to her breasts, her throat.

Her dress was gone; only her cotton underwear remained.

She knew it. She'd been ravished. Some man she didn't know had taken her, used her for his pleasure, stolen her virginity… and she'd missed the whole thing.

That only left being killed. She'd probably be dead as soon as he finished his meal.

"Hungry?" a male voice said.

Bonnie twisted until she could see him half a room away at a table set for two.

"Do I get a meal before you kill me?"

"Might as well. I'll have to toss the stew anyway. Cooked more than I can eat”

Bonnie started to get up, then realized she had no clothes. She tugged a thin blanket around her shoulders. "You took my clothes."

"One” he said as he ate, "they were wet. And, two, I figured it'd keep you inside if you don't have any dress to run away in. You'll be warm enough in all those underthings."

"Oh," she said as if he made sense. She was caged with a madman. Silently she added clothes thief to his list of ravisher, killer, and robber.

There was nothing practical to do but eat, and Bonnie prided herself in always being practical.

She tiptoed over to the table and sat across from him. "Did you…" She didn't even know how to ask what he might have done to her.

"No," he said, pushing the pot close to her. "I figured I'd eat first."

Carefully spooning one serving, she lied, "I'm not afraid of you.”

"I guessed that," he lied back.

She felt like they were having a picnic in the middle of a great battle. She should be screaming and running around and fighting to save herself, but all she did was take a bite.

“This is good," she said after her bowl was half empty, and he hadn't attacked her.

"Thanks," he answered, still staring at her. "I learned to cook as a kid hiring out with a railroad crew."

She looked everywhere but at him. She didn't want to talk to the man who was going to use her and murder her.

The cabin was small but clean and orderly. Not the place she'd think of as a stage for killing and torturing. She also noticed that the chairs were a few inches taller than most and the table higher. He was a man who liked things that fit his body. Gulping, she realized he considered her one of them.

He stood and collected two cups and a bottle from the one shelf above the pump. He poured her an inch of something from a bottle. "Drink this. It'll take the chill off.” He added another inch. "At your size, you'll probably need more."

For the thousandth time in her life, she wished she was shorter. Everyone knew the perfect height for a woman was five feet two. If she'd been nine or ten inches shorter, he probably wouldn't have even noticed her in the hallway.

After downing the drink, she coughed.

The stranger handed her water, then moved to a chipped washtub to wash his hands. She studied him. He was very tall but well proportioned for his frame. His hair, sun-bleached and too long, looked like he'd cut it himself with a dull knife. There were wrinkles around his eyes, making him seem hard. She'd guess him in his late thirties and wondered if he'd spent all his life alone, for there was nothing in the house that hinted of a woman or any family. She also noticed no books or paper. Though the table had two chairs, only one rocker sat by the fireplace. A workbench nearby was covered with harnesses he must have been working on.

The door was closed, but the bolt lay against the wall. If she ran, she might make it outside, but where would she go? Even if she found a horse, she didn't know how to saddle one or have any idea which way would take her back to Galveston. A bear or some other wild animal would probably have her as his midnight snack.

"You can't keep me here," she said as calmly as she could manage.

He didn't answer.

Bonnie stood and moved closer to him. "And you can't kill me, so get that out of your head. You've got to let me go. Right now.”

His long arm swung out and caught her waist with a sudden movement that threw her off guard. He pulled her hard against him with one tug. "Stop talking, lady. Both our lives depend on you staying right here with me.”

He pulled her back to the bed and tied her arm tight to one side. He covered her with the thin blanket, then he tugged off his boots and shirt. He carefully placed his shirt over the back of one of the chairs, throwing the bed in shadows. Then he lay down on the other side of her, locking his fingers around her free arm in a grip that said he had no plans of letting go.

Somewhere in the night, she heard horses coming fast. In a few minutes she'd be rescued. There was no need to struggle.

"Don't move” He shoved her hair away from her face. "And don't say anything. Not one word”

He was so close, she could feel his warm breath. The weight of his arm rested just below her breasts like an iron bar holding her down.

"Do you understand, lady? Not one word, or you're dead." The horses were getting closer. She nodded, knowing she only had seconds to endure.

He must have known it too, but his reaction surprised her. Instead of running to bolt the door, he rolled over on top of her and kissed her hard, full on the mouth.

She struggled beneath him, feeling every part of his body move against her as his tongue went deep into her mouth, taking the taste of her with him.

He pulled back and stared down at her as if seeing something that displeased him, then he cupped her jaw in his big hand and held her still as he kissed her again with all the force of a man starving.

The power of him, the weight of him, the savage kiss, all warmed her body and fired her cheeks.

Her heart felt as if it were thundering faster than the hooves coming. She stopped the useless struggling and accepted his kiss. His whole body seemed to read her reaction. In a split second, his assault softened and turned tender.

He pulled away to study her, then smiled down at her as if he now liked what he saw. "I'm going to kiss you whether you're willing or not, but I'd prefer it this way." He lowered and brushed her lips.

She opened her mouth to object to his advance just as his lips touched hers again.

She didn't move, more surprised by the gentleness than by the assault. This was a kiss as she'd always imagined a kiss could be, bold and tender. She couldn't have fought if her life had been the price. He made no attempt to brace his weight but rested over her as he drank her in. She shifted slightly, matching the feel of him, until they were both comfortable. She accepted his kiss.

The cowboy smiled down at her, then brushed her cheek and touched her lips with his fingertips. "Delicious," he whispered. "Just as I knew you'd be the first time I saw you. I knew you'd taste like heaven and feel right beneath me” When his mouth covered hers, he seemed to be searching, trying to please her, not take.

Never in her life had she been kissed like this. In childhood she'd always been too tall for boys her age, but a few times at school, when no one was watching, older boys had pulled her into corners and tried to kiss her or feel her body. Their touches had bruised and hurt. She'd had no one to run to, no one to tell, but by the time they tried again, she'd learned to fight with words, threats directed at their weakness.

Only this time there were no words. This man wasn't a boy. And, she realized, he wasn't taking; he was giving.

The door slammed against the wall as it popped open. He pulled his mouth from hers.

"Get out!" he yelled as two men stormed in, dripping from head to toe and swearing at the weather.

Bonnie tried to pull her senses together enough to think. All she had to do was tell these strangers she was a prisoner and she'd be saved.

"I said get out, Sol, and take your no-good friend with you” The cowboy rose slowly like a bear protecting his kill. He shoved the straps of her camisole off her shoulder as he pulled away, making her appear naked beneath the blanket.

For a second their gazes met, and she saw fear in his sad eyes as if he were sorry for what he'd had to do or maybe what he was about to do.

He sat in front of her, hiding her body from the intruders. She curled on her side, trying to see around him.

"Look, Duke.” the first stranger said with a laugh. "Now we know why little brother didn't show up yesterday. Bradford's got him a woman. It's about time. Me and the boys were beginning to think you were a monk."

"I'm busy right now." The cowboy leaned back against her body and dug his fingers through her hair. "I'm in the middle of something. I didn't have time to try to keep you from getting yourself killed this time”

The man he'd called Sol laughed. "I can see you've got your hands full. The way her cheeks are fired up, I'd say she's ready for a good ride, but you were told to go in ahead of us in case there was any trouble, and we didn't see hide nor hair of you. Hanover won't like that, if he gets wind of it."

"I don't work for Hanover. I was just going along to watch your back. Was there trouble?" the cowboy asked while he slid his other hand over Bonnie's bottom in a familiar way no man had ever dared touch her.

She opened her mouth to speak just as she recognized the men before her.

They were two of the robbers from the gaming house. She'd only seen them for a second when they'd stormed Shelley's office, but she'd taken a good look before stepping backward into the shadows.

She froze. This cabin with the cowboy might be better than going with these two. They both had a hardness about them. She doubted they'd even care about her problem.

Sol swore and tugged off his hat. "No. There was no trouble. We got what we went after. That redheaded devil, Charlie, got the money from the safe. Hanover got that damn paper he'd been hunting down for a year." He warmed by the fire. "Charlie killed a few, even when he swore he wouldn't, but you couldn't have stopped that, even if you'd been there. Besides, we agreed, the less witnesses the better. He just made sure there were even less.”

Bonnie was fighting down hysteria. She was in the nest of thieves and killers. And one of them was caressing her throat with his fingers. She felt sure the purpose was so lie could snap her neck if she tried to speak.

The cowboy eased his grip. "You all want to stay for a meal? I got some stew left over" His hand now patted her hip, telling her to stay calm. "I could put off our little fun for a few minutes. After all, we've been going pretty much straight for two days”

Sol barked a laugh. "I knew once you got back into it, you'd take to it. You wouldn't want to introduce your gal, would you?"

"No." The cowboy's body shadowed her face. "All I'm offering is food. The woman is mine” His fingers dug lightly into her flesh as if he meant his words.

"No food. Charlie and the others are already ahead of us. We'll have to ride hard to catch up with them before they go into that strip of canyon called Skull Alley. We just wanted to check on you. They're taking a surprise to Hanover. I think he'll be real tickled when he sees her, and I'd like to be there." Sol looked back at the bed. "You wouldn't want to get dressed and go along for the ride? I'm sure your gal will wait. She probably could use the rest”

"No," the cowboy answered. "I plan to be busy for a few more hours” He patted her hip once more. "Maybe longer, if she's up for it.”

The older man didn't look like he expected more conversation out of his little brother. "Fine. See you in a few days when I circle back through.” He lifted the last piece of corn bread from the pan still on the table and walked out eating.

The other man followed, closing the door on his way out.

Bonnie expected the ravishing to begin again, but the cowboy stood and bolted the door. It occurred to her that he could have done that earlier and avoided the scene.

She studied him as he began washing the dishes. "Your name really Bradford?"

"Brad," he answered. "No one but my brother calls me Bradford. He's ten years older than me and was wild and gone from home before I remembered him. A few years back I came back to Texas to find him, since he's my only relative. I decided I'd better stay. God knows he needs someone to watch over him.”

As she pieced together the conversation with the men, it occurred to her that he might have saved her life. She definitely would fall in the witness category, and Sol had said some guy named Charlie had killed all the witnesses.

A chill moved across her heart. Sage was there. Had she been in the body count? Bonnie had to get back and find out. If anyone survived besides her, it would be the doc. Bonnie had to believe it, because she couldn't accept anything less right now.

Brad picked up a knife off the table and walked toward her. Before she could get more than a squeak of a scream out, he slashed through the rope that bound her to his bed.

She jumped free of him and huddled in the far corner of the bed. "You're letting me go?"

"No, but there's no need to make you uncomfortable.” He walked back to his work with the dishes. "The storm's getting worse. We couldn't leave now, even if we were of a mind to."

"What are you going to do with me?"

He didn't answer.

She scooted off the bed and took a few steps toward him. "I said, what are you going to do with me?"

He straightened and turned. "I'm going to get to know you, then I'll take you back, safe and sound. I haven't had a woman close enough to even talk to in a long time. I figure you owe me that. Company is all I'm asking, lady, just company.”

No one had ever said they wanted to know her. She was always the woman at the dance who never got asked, the one who sat alone. That's why she'd thrown herself into nursing. She'd wanted her world too busy for those awkward times when people looked right through her, or worse, made fun of her.

"Maybe you'd better sit down, lady," she heard him say. Then she was on the stool close to the fire. He handed her a comb and watched as she began to untangle her long, unruly hair.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and watched her as if fascinated.

"All my pins are gone," she said, thinking how improper it was to have hair about her shoulders. Her mother used to say the curly mass looked like a bush when it wasn't tied up.

"It looks fine” He pulled the rocker so close their knees touched. "When I saw you that day on the street. I thought about how I'd like to get acquainted, but a pretty lady like you would never look at the likes of me”

The man must be blind, she thought. An insane blind man. "Then when I saw you at Shelley's place, all I thought about was getting you somewhere safe. When we got here and you started talking about me ravishing you, I thought you were teasing. Let's face it, we're both of the age to know what a roll in the hay is all about.”

He took one of her hands and looked like he had no idea what to do with it. "Then, when I kissed you, I realized you didn't know. It doesn't seem possible that a lady like you wouldn't have been kissed a few thousand times by now, but that's the feeling I got”

She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. He thought her a lady, probably because of the hand-tailored traveling suit Sage had bought her. It made no sense that he thought a man, any man, had wanted to kiss her. Not once in her adult life.

When all else failed her, Bonnie used humor to answer. "Most men can't reach my lips.” she said and then straightened. "And the others wouldn't dare try.”

He laughed and leaned closer. "They don't know what they are missing."

Then, as easily as if they were old lovers, he leaned closer and kissed her lightly. "Tell me about the first time you were kissed."

Bonnie stared at the fire. She'd never told anyone about that first time, but her nerves were rattled, her defenses down. It seemed as good a time as any to be honest. "My parents were old. They had me in their late forties and weren't too happy about it. I was always too tall, too awkward. When we went to church socials, I was usually told to help in the kitchen, which was fine with me. One evening I was taking the garbage out, and a boy about four years older grabbed me and pulled me into the dark. His kiss, if you can call it that, split my lip. He slapped me hard for getting blood on his shirt. When I got home, I got three licks with a strap for being clumsy. If I'd told the truth, my father would have beat me far worse”

"Come here.” Brad said as he tugged her off her stool and into his arms.

Bonnie never cried, not even when she was small. It had always been her own private little defiance. She rested her head on his shoulder and let one tear fall.

"I'm sorry” he said. "I didn't mean to be so rough with you back there. I only wanted you to look like you were hot with passion. If my brother had guessed the truth, he might not have shot you, but the man with him would have. He'd have probably killed us both."

"So, you just kissed me for show." Bonnie felt like a fool for even thinking it had been passion.

"The first time." He moved his hand along her arm. "And maybe the second, but the third kiss had nothing to do with the danger we were in."

She laughed. "Thanks for that, I guess. You know, once I heard a woman say that she had a lover that moved over her like a warm summer storm. She said it only lasted a night, but the memory was burned into her thoughts forever. I never understood what she meant until you moved over me."

He was silent for so long, she wished she could take her foolish words back. They weren't friends. They never would be. He had saved her life, back at the gambling house and again here, but in turn, she'd given him probably the only alibi this gang would have accepted.

"You know, lady, I've never been anyone's storm before. That lover of your friend must have been mighty proud to know that just once he'd had such an effect on a woman."

He moved his hand up her bare arm as if cherishing the feel of her. "I'll take you back when the rain stops."

Rocking back in his chair, he crossed his leg over one knee to make room for her in his lap. "If you don't mind, I'd like to hold you for a while. I've never held anything so fine."

"All right," she managed to say calmly as if the request were nothing out of the ordinary. Not once had her father touched her except to discipline her, and her mother saw any affection as weak. For a few minutes she could let him hold her. No one would ever know.

"Tell me about your first kiss?" she asked.

He brushed her arm gently as he laughed. "I met a gal when I was barely grown at a barn raising in Tennessee. Prettiest little thing you've ever seen. We were married that night. I kissed her for the first time when I brought her back to a place. I was farming. I was so big, more than a foot taller than her. I was afraid I'd hurt her, and in the end, I guess I killed her. She died less than a year later trying to deliver a stillborn baby. A few months later, I married her older sister. I didn't love her. Wasn't even attracted to her, but I was young and all alone, so I figured I needed a wife."

"What was wrong with her?"

"Nothing, really, except maybe she thought everything was wrong with me. I couldn't do anything right. She was taller than her sister and probably carried fifty or more pounds. I thought if I ever got up the nerve to get her pregnant, she'd be able to carry a child, and that was all that mattered to me.”

"Her father said if he hadn't married her off to me, he'd be stuck with her for life:" Brad laughed. "Her moods could sour milk still in the cow. He lied about her not ever finding anyone, though. A few months after we married, she ran off with a railroad worker. Last I heard, they were living up North somewhere and had a dozen kids. After the sisters, I knew I wasn't meant for the married life, so I started drifting."

Bonnie rose up and giggled. She wanted to tell him that she'd never talked with a man like this, all honest and natural. Only how do you tell someone who called you pretty that he's the only one in the world who sees you that way?

"Lady." He looked into her eyes. "Mind if I kiss you again?"

She sat very still. "No. I've no objection.”

He moved his lips to her throat and began burning a trail to her mouth.

Bonnie sighed and leaned her head back, loving the feel of him. Her mouth was open slightly when he finally reached her lips. The kiss took her breath away.

Vaguely she was aware of him shifting her body in his lap so that her head rested in the crook of his arm. His kiss made her feel warm all over, and she was lost to all but feeling.

When he finally left her lips, he didn't stop kissing her. His mouth moved back down her throat as his chin brushed her head back so that he could taste her skin. His hands moved over her leg, feeling her through the layers of cotton until he reached the hem of her petticoat and began his journey back up her leg without the hindrance of the cotton between them.

"You taste so good.” he whispered against her ear. "Mind if I kiss you again and again?" When she laughed, he added, "And again?"

She made one sound of invitation before his mouth closed over hers.

He finished one long kiss before moving to her ear and whispering. "Do you like that, Pretty Lady?"

She made a sigh, and his hand moved up to her thigh as he continued to kiss her.

Now he was teaching her how he wanted to be kissed, guiding her mouth open. "More.” he mumbled against her lips. "Deeper. Draw me into your mouth."

She followed his suggestions.

"Mind if we do this a while longer?" he insisted when he filially took time to breathe. "I can't seem to get enough of you."

"Please," she answered and arched her back so he could move down her throat. She was floating with pleasure and growing hungry for his mouth on hers.

"Yes," she whispered against his lips when he finally returned.

His kiss turned deep with longing, making her aware of nothing but him and the fire building inside her.

His hand moved higher, where he gripped her soft flesh and pulled her legs apart slightly. "I need to touch you. You're so soft. I want to feel all of you."

She felt his heavy breathing against her throat and knew he was waiting for her to say yes.

A tiny part of her mind told her she wasn't young, she was an old maid. Foolish passion was for girls, not women of her age.

His grip was so tight, she knew he'd already left a bruise, but she didn't care. He wasn't hurting her, he was wanting her.

She straightened, pushing him a few inches away. He fought her action for a moment, then straightened back, giving her room. His eyes were on fire as he stared at her, but his hand moved back down her leg and slowly replaced the petticoat.

Her breath came so fast, she couldn't speak. She'd never felt like this before, not for one minute. Not for one second.

He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the rocker. "If you're waiting for me to say I'm sorry," he finally said, "you'll wait a hell of a long time”

"Open your eyes," she ordered.

He did. She could still see the fire blended with a sorrow, a longing, a pain she knew well.

Her hands trembled as she lifted them to the front of her camisole and began to unbutton the first button. "I've never been a selfish person," she said as she pulled the first button free. "I've always thought of myself as a woman of simple needs." The second button fell and then the third.

He didn't move, but his eyes were no longer on hers.

She smiled as she tugged the next button free and felt the camisole fall open so that all but the tips of her breasts showed. "Tonight, I'd like to ask you for something, and before you answer. I'll have you know that I'll not settle for less. I want my one time, my one memory. Then I want your word you'll take me back." She had her life planned, organized. This would be her one step off the sidewalk.

His fingertips brushed the swell of one of her breasts. As he explored in slight movements, the fabric fell away, revealing her. He looked into her eyes so she could see his pleasure as his hand spread over her flesh.

She saw what she'd longed for in his gaze. She saw herself as beautiful.

"Name it," he whispered. His eyes didn't leave hers, but his hand closed around her. As he measured the width and weight of her in his palm, she drew in a quick breath at the shock of pleasure sparking through her body.

"Name it, I said.” His voice was raw with need and demanding.

She closed her eyes and answered, "Be my storm tonight. Be the one night I'll never forget. Be the memory I'll carry with me forever, and then promise at dawn we'll part”

His hand tightened, and she swayed with the sensation. She never dreamed a touch could spark her body so.

He dug his free hand through her hair and pulled her mouth to his. Now his kiss was free and wild with need, and his fingers moved over her breasts, branding them forever with his caress.

"Swear," she said when he let her breathe. "Swear that you'll keep your word. One night. One storm."

He tugged her hair back, until she arched her body toward his, and sucked hard on one of her breasts. "I swear," he whispered. "But you'll be mine, all mine, tonight”

"Yes," she sealed the bargain with one word.

He picked her up and carried her to the bed, but he didn't lie on top of her as she thought he would. He stretched beside her so that he could kiss her while he undressed her completely. One hand circled in her hair so that she'd remain still while he finished his task. She knew without asking that he was a man learning tenderness for the first time.

When she tried to reach for the blanket, she heard a low growl from him. "No," he ordered. "There'll be nothing between us. Not tonight”

Then he kissed her so tenderly, she settled against him, letting him touch her wherever he liked. When he knew she'd calmed and grown used to his nearness, he pulled away long enough to undress. When he returned, he was above her, gently settling over her.

She jerked at the feel of skin against skin.

He took his time once again, allowing her to grow used to the feel of his body against hers. His rough hands moved over her as though he'd never touched anything so dear, and he wanted to savor the feel of her.

When she relaxed once more, he explored, slowly examining, kissing, tasting every part of her. There was a hunger to his actions that left her skin sensitive and aching for him to return.

"I'm going to go slow," he whispered when he returned to her mouth for a deep, open kiss. Then he added, "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she answered, hoping she spoke the truth.

She felt his words as he kissed the corners of her mouth. His hand had spread over her below her belly button. While he tasted her throat, his fingers started back to her breasts, where she knew he'd take his time learning every inch of her.

"I'm going to love you, Pretty Lady, and when we're finished, I'm going to start all over again."

And that's exactly what he did.