To Kiss a Texan

NINETEEN

WES POURED HIMSELF A THIRD CUP OF COFFEE ANDpulled a chair by the window so he could watch the sun rise. From the kitchen, he heard Owen swearing that he’d never drink again.

Looking out on the gray morning, Wes set his mind to what had to be done. The dream of the Goliad gold was just that, a dream. He had to turn it loose. Allie was in danger, and the best way he could protect her was from his home base. The ranch he’d bought the first year he came to Texas hadn’t been much of a home. He’d mostly used it as a stopping-off place between trail drives. But it had a bluff backing up to the dugout, making it accessible from only one side. She’d be safest there.

He also had to consider that the sheriff needed a place to recover and Owen was worse than nothing as a nurse. Wes didn’t know of any relatives the sheriff might have, so he’d have to recover at the ranch. Adam was close enough to ride over and check in on the old man now and again.

And then there was Jason. He needed a place to grow. Being on the run from trouble was no place for a boy.

Wes took a long drink, allowing the coffee to warm him. He knew the gold wouldn’t wait. Vincent had told him there were other men looking for it. This had been his one chance. He was within a day’s ride from it, but he was outgunned, fighting an uphill battle. He couldn’t leave them unprotected, even for a few days to follow his dream. Allie meant more to him than the gold.

Sheriff Hardy moaned and tried to rise.

Wes moved to his side. ‘‘Easy now, old man. You’ll break a few more bones if you fall out of bed.’’ Sweat dotted the sheriff’s face, warning Wes the fever had begun. He only hoped that Hardy was strong enough to fight a fever and the pain.

The sheriff grumbled. ‘‘Get this contraption off my leg!’’

Wes placed a firm hand on Hardy’s shoulder. ‘‘I can’t. You’ve got to give that leg time to heal. I figure I can take you back to my place for a few months. It’s not much, but we’ll make it work.’’

The sheriff leaned back as realization cleared his bloodshot eyes. ‘‘No,’’ he finally said. ‘‘Take me to Victoria.’’

‘‘More likely hell than there,’’ Wes answered as he tried to put a towel across Hardy’s forehead.

‘‘No, listen,’’ the old man mumbled, his voice growing weak. ‘‘That’s the only place we know Michael won’t go. He hasn’t set foot on his mother’s land in twenty years. It’s the only place in Texas where I’d be safe. I can’t let Michael find me when I’m down. It’d be the chance he’s been waiting for.’’

‘‘I thought you said you saved his life?’’

‘‘I did, and the fact that he owes me a debt has been festering in him ever since. He’s been waiting for me to get old and drop my guard.’’

Hardy grabbed Wes’s arm with surprising strength. ‘‘If not for me, take us to Victoria for Allie’s sake. You can’t protect her and the boy every moment. Michael’s getting closer, I can feel it.’’

Wes knew the old man was right. ‘‘Are you sure he won’t show up at Victoria’s?’’

‘‘I’m sure. When he left, in his youth, he swore he’d never return, not even to bury her.’’

Nodding, Wes gave in. ‘‘How long until you’re able to leave?’’

Hardy relaxed, as if he’d won a fight. ‘‘I’m ready now.’’

Wes knew the longer they stayed here, the greater the chance Michael would find them. If what Maxwell Hardy said was right, it might be worth risking the old man’s life to get him to safe ground. ‘‘I’ll see if Owen will trade your buggy for a wagon. We’ll pack it with straw and blankets.’’

Ten minutes later, he’d made all the plans and had Jason help Owen get everything ready. All that was left to do was go upstairs and tell Allie.

Wes didn’t hurry. He knew she wouldn’t want to go back to Victoria’s. But Hardy was right. It was the safest place for them right now.

When he entered the room, Allie was dressed, looking out the window. She’d cut a strip of cloth from the bandages and used it to tie back her hair. She wore the other dress Nichole had given her. The muddy blue color was even less flattering than the brown had been. But Wes hardly noticed. He remembered what lay beneath.

‘‘Allie,’’ he said, knowing she’d heard him come into the room.

She didn’t turn around. ‘‘We’re leaving, aren’t we? Even in the rain.’’

‘‘Yes.’’ He moved behind her, standing close enough to feel her warmth without touching her.

‘‘Do we go to look for your treasure among the ghosts?’’ She stared into the gray morning.

‘‘No.’’ He lightly touched her shoulder. When she didn’t pull away, he allowed his hand to rest. ‘‘We have to take Hardy to a safe place. He thinks Michael will kill him if Michael finds him wounded. Hardy wants to go back to Victoria’s place.’’

‘‘But what about your treasure? You need the gold to buy cattle for your ranch.’’ She leaned slightly, brushing her shoulders against his chest. ‘‘I heard you tell your friend that it would be your one chance to start over.’’

‘‘It can wait,’’ Wes lied. He knew if he stopped now, he’d never make it back. He also knew she didn’t want him to bother the ghosts at Goliad. Victoria must frighten her more than any ghosts.

She turned and placed her arms around his neck. ‘‘I’m sorry,’’ she whispered. ‘‘You must change your plan.’’

Wes had expected her to balk at the thought of going back to Victoria’s, but instead, she understood. She knew what he was giving up because of Hardy and her.

‘‘It’s all right. I’ll find another way.’’ He pulled her close, wishing he could tell her all of how he felt. He’d always been alone, worrying about himself. Now he had her. It felt good to worry about someone else for a change.

‘‘We’ll take the sheriff to my grandmother, but then we must leave for Goliad. We will not stay at the headquarters.’’

‘‘No,’’ Wes started.

‘‘Yes,’’ she answered. ‘‘If it hadn’t been for me, you’d already have been to the gold. I will go with you to look. I will help you fight the ghosts.’’

‘‘No, forget it.’’

‘‘I will not,’’ she said the words as though ending the discussion.

For the first time, he saw a stubbornness in the set of her jaw. Maybe because she didn’t talk much; maybe because she was so tiny, he’d always thought of her as a little bit childlike. But she’d understood his loss of a dream. There was nothing childlike in the way she faced him, or the way she’d felt last night.

‘‘We’ll talk of it later. Right now, we need to get started if we plan to reach Victoria’s place by midnight.’’ He looked into her wonderful blue eyes. There was so much to her, the blue seemed endless. The more he learned and understood her, the more he cared.

Without thinking of how little time they had, he lowered his head and kissed her tenderly. The taste of her lips could easily become addictive.

She accepted his kiss willingly, wanting a moment’s warmth before the long ride ahead.

When the kiss ended, Wes hesitated.

His hands rested at her waist, but he didn’t pull her closer. ‘‘About last night.’’ Slowly his hand moved up the front of her dress. ‘‘Why did you put my hand… here?’’ His fingers slid over the material covering her breast.

All she had to do was move and his slight touch would be gone. But she didn’t even breath. ‘‘I…’’

His hand gently covered her, warming the skin beneath the cloth.

‘‘I wanted to see if it hurt.’’ She fought to catch her breath as he continued touching, pressing enough for her to feel.

‘‘And does it?’’

‘‘No,’’ she answered.

‘‘All you have to do, Allie, is step away,’’ he whispered against her ear. ‘‘I’m not holding you, only touching you.’’

She didn’t move.

Wes kissed her cheek lightly as he crossed to the center of her dress and began to loosen the buttons.

‘‘Step away,’’ he said against her ear, ‘‘and I won’t follow.’’

The buttons tumbled open easily to his touch. He knew there was no time, but he couldn’t stop. The memory from the night was too strong.

‘‘All you have to do is back up, and what’s happening now will be over between us without another word being said. I’ll never touch you again.’’

She closed her eyes and tried to stand still as he pulled the material away.

‘‘But I want you to feel my touch when I’m awake. I want you to know that I’m here, whenever you want.’’

His fingers gently lifted her lace strap and pushed it from her shoulder. Then, very slowly, he placed his hand at the base of her throat and lowered his fingers over her flesh.

Allie leaned her head back and let the feel of his hand caress her. She steeled herself for the pain as he explored lower, cupping her breast in his grip. But none came. Only the warmth of his touch.

His free hand gently braced her back as his mouth covered hers. His kiss was hungry, hurried, his touch tender, hesitant. Sensations exploded inside her, shaking her body with the force.

He broke the kiss and stepped back suddenly. ‘‘Are you all right?’’ His brow wrinkled in worry.

Allie staggered forward from the sudden loss of his nearness. ‘‘I think so.’’ She placed her hand on his chest, steadying herself. ‘‘I never felt anything like that before. My whole body had a fire running through it.’’

Wes relaxed. ‘‘I thought I’d hurt you.’’

‘‘No,’’ she answered, thinking she’d like to ask him to do it again but unsure she should. She wished there were someone, anyone but Wes, to ask if what he’d just done was right. She knew what the men had done before was wrong. It hurt her, and they made sure no one else saw them. But when Wes touched her, there was no pain, only the warmth. And he’d offered to repeat the action any time as though he were giving her a gift.

‘‘Is it right, for a man to touch a woman so?’’ She pulled her dress together.

‘‘It’s right for a husband to touch a wife as I touched you,’’ Wes answered.

‘‘Then you will touch me so again, tonight?’’ She passed him and headed for the door. ‘‘Is this also done only when we are alone?’’

‘‘Yes.’’

She reached for the door. ‘‘Until we are alone tonight.’’ She vanished before he could answer.

Wes braced against the window frame, reminding himself he was her husband in name only. Only to protect her. Only until she found a home. Only til she was out of harm’s way.

But if he touched her again tonight, he’d be her husband in more than name.

He told himself he didn’t want a wife. He didn’t need a wife… he could barely feed himself. But from the looks of things, the only one who would stop him was himself. Wes wasn’t sure he was strong enough to fight that battle alone.

He was still trying to decide what to do ten hours later as he neared Victoria Catlin’s ranch. He’d noticed riders following them a few hours back, but they hadn’t drawn closer. If Allie or Jason could have driven the wagon, Wes would have ridden back to take a look. But Allie had her hands full trying to keep the sheriff settled. The old man was well into his second bottle of whiskey by nightfall. The team was too inexperienced for Jason to handle, but the boy was quick to jump out and help guide when the road was muddy.

By the time they were well onto Catlin land, the men following had disappeared. Wes thought maybe they’d just been going in the same direction, but, with his luck, that was doubtful.

When they sighted the ranch headquarters, it was near midnight. No light shone from the fortress, and Wes wondered if they hadn’t made a mistake returning. How safe could they be at a headquarters that didn’t post a guard at night?

They reached the gate with still no sign of life from inside the wall.

Wes handed Jason the reins and climbed down. The horses were too tired to walk, much less run, so the boy could handle them.

Walking up to the small door on the side of the huge gate, Wes pounded. Once. Twice. No one came.

With a shove he forced open the door that had been locked but not barred. Inside the compound, the night was black. Shadows closed upon shadows, making the blackness complete.

‘‘Hello!’’ he yelled. ‘‘Gideon! Hello!’’

A light flickered on from the second floor, then another in the servants’ quarters. Footsteps echoed. A door opened somewhere in the blackness.

‘‘Gideon, it’s Wes McLain. I brought Sheriff Hardy. He’s wounded.’’ Wes waited for an answer.

In the inky blackness, he thought he heard someone tapping down the stairs with a cane.

‘‘Mr. McLain?’’ A whispered voice drifted around him.

Wes reached for his gun then paused. The voice was only a few feet away.

‘‘Miss Victoria?’’

The soft sound of aging laughter drifted to him. ‘‘You can’t see me? But I can hear your breathing as loud as a drum.’’

‘‘Where are you?’’ Wes asked in the general direction of the voice. ‘‘It’s black as midnight out here.’’

‘‘It’s always black midnight to me.’’ A thin hand touched his sleeve. ‘‘Will you take me to Maxwell? I heard you say he was wounded.’’

Wes helped her through the door. As they walked to the wagon, he tried to explain what had happened.

Victoria held up her hand. ‘‘I wish to touch his chest first.’’

Allie took the woman’s withered hand and placed it over Maxwell’s heart. ‘‘He’s still alive.’’ Allie knew the blind woman was testing to make sure.

Victoria smiled as she felt a heartbeat then moved her hands to his face. ‘‘He’s burning up with fever and long past drunk, from the smell of him. Gideon!’’

The stout man appeared at the door, still trying to dress himself. ‘‘I’m here, Miss Victoria,’’ he mumbled.

‘‘Of course you are. I heard you coming from the time your feet hit the floor by your bed. Now, unlock the gate. Send a man to town for that quack who calls himself a doctor, and order him to bring plenty of medicine. And tell Katherine to get the study ready to use as a sickroom. Maxwell will be easier to take care of on the first floor.’’

Gideon looked flustered. ‘‘All at once?’’

‘‘All at once and right now! I’ve no time to waste being questioned or repeating myself. This is Maxwell Hardy we have here.’’

Wes almost laughed out loud. Blind and old, she was still quite a woman.

‘‘And you, Mr. McLain, pull the wagon carefully to the main door.’’ She grabbed Maxwell’s hand. ‘‘And don’t you worry, Sheriff, I’m not turning loose of you until I see you cared for.’’

The place turned into an ant bed of activity. Gideon was shouting orders and pushing everyone who got near him to hurry them along. Torches and lanterns were everywhere, lighting the courtyard and the steps bright as day. Only the wagon moved slowly to the door with Victoria Catlin walking beside it.

Wes lifted Maxwell from the wagon with Jason holding his leg straight out. The sheriff moaned in pain, but he was drowned out by Victoria’s rapid fire of endless orders.

They were halfway up the steps when Katherine appeared before them, blocking the doorway like an aging Amazon warrior.

‘‘These are the people who-’’

Victoria’s cane struck her, none too accidentally, midthigh. ‘‘Hush, Katherine and get out of the way. I know who these people are, but all that concerns me right now is that Maxwell is hurt. Now you can help or remove yourself from the area. I don’t care which.’’

Katherine took one look at the sheriff’s blood-covered leg and ran for the stairs.

Victoria walked into her house without using the cane. ‘‘Put him in the first room, Mr. McLain. And be careful when you pass through the door.’’

As Allie followed, Victoria grabbed her arm with strong, bone-thin fingers. ‘‘Did you bandage the sheriff and set the leg?’’

‘‘Yes,’’ Allie answered. ‘‘With Jason’s help. We did the best we could.’’

‘‘Good, then you’ll be my eyes.’’ She pulled Allie along the hall. ‘‘We’re going to take the bandages off and check the wound. I don’t want someone fainting on me while I do my doctoring. If you’ve seen it once, the wound will be nothing new to you.’’

‘‘You’ve doctored people?’’ Jason asked from just behind Victoria.

‘‘I have. I doctored all my husbands through gunfights, steer-gouging, and every other ailment you can think of.’’

‘‘Your husbands?’’ Jason asked. ‘‘They’re all dead, ain’t they?’’

Victoria held her chin a fraction higher. ‘‘That’s beside the point. They all had cleaned wounds when they passed on into the hereafter.’’