The Lady Takes A Gunslinger (Wild Western Rogues Series, Book 1) (43 page)

"I suppose you know Magdalena is crazy about you," she said softly.

He glanced over at her fondly. "She's something, isn't she? The first time I laid eyes on her, she nearly shot my head off."

"Now
that
I believe," Grace said with a grin. "Apparently, she changed her mind about you. We couldn't have gotten you out without her."

"I know. She's been a good friend. She and her father. Magdalena thinks she's in love with me. But it's just that I'm different. She doesn't know what it is she wants. And to tell the truth, neither do I anymore. If I did, she would have tempted me to stay." He glanced at Magdalena again, who was walking toward the remuda of horses. "I'll talk to her."

From personal experience, she knew logic of that sort mattered not at all where affairs of the heart were concerned.

"What about you?" Luke asked, glancing at Reese. "And him. Correct me if I'm mistaken, but there appears to be a whole lot you're not telling me about the two of you."

Apparently, prison had made him a mind reader, too. She looked up at Reese, distracted by the casual jut of his hip as he rested his foot on a log. He was laughing at something Tipo said. The sound of it tore at her heart.

"—is there, Grace?"

With a start she realized Luke had asked her something. "What?"

Luke's eyes narrowed. "I said you've been together all the way from Texas. There's nothing I should be worried about as your big brother, is there?"

"Worried? No." She tried to sound outraged at the suggestion, but the word sounded more hopeful than indignant. She wasn't foolish enough to discount the chance that she might be expecting. Neither would she be foolish enough to try to hang onto him with the possibility.

A child. Reese's child.

The thought cheered her. At least she'd have a small piece of him to keep with her always.

"No," she repeated, glancing up at Luke. "There's nothing to worry about."

He regarded her for a long moment. "You've changed, little sister. You've grown up."

A smile tugged at her mouth. If that meant that she no longer needed to compare herself to a larger-than-life heroine like Lorna Lee Goodnight, only to find herself lacking, or to seek vicarious excitement through her books, then maybe he was right. Maybe she had grown up. Because for the last few weeks, nothing Lorna Lee could have done compared to the real-life adventure she'd shared with Reese Donovan. She'd seen enough danger to fill a hundred stories. Not with the fairy-tale stuff she'd once taken as fact, but with heroes like Reese and Luke, James and Evie, Magdalena, Dominguez, and—heaven help her—even Tipo.

Nothing was as she'd thought it was. And nothing would ever be the same again. Reese had stripped her of her schoolgirl fantasies and replaced them with something far more precious—a belief in herself. For that, she owed him everything. And he'd made her more determined than ever to finish the book she'd started. She'd have to rewrite it completely, because—strangely—the hero had gone through a dramatic transformation in the process of telling the story. He was a different sort of hero altogether.

The object of her thoughts strolled toward their campfire with the loose-hipped walk she'd forever associate with Reese. He smiled and tipped his hat back on his head as he met Luke's gaze.

"A little food and rest seems just what the doctor ordered, Turner."

Luke smiled wanly up at his rescuer and eased up on one elbow. "I haven't had the chance to thank you properly, Donovan. Not only for saving my neck, but keeping Gracie safe, too." The men shook hands like old friends. With a teasing light in his eyes, he glanced up at Grace. "She's a hardheaded brat, and I suppose she kept you on your toes."

Awareness arced between Reese and Grace, even with that innocent look.

Grace moistened her dry lips and flicked a bright, teasing smile at Luke. "Hardheaded, huh? Need I remind you, brother, who had to rescue whom?"

"Something," he confided to Reese, "she'll never let me forget."

A spark of some indefinable emotion flashed in Reese's eyes. "The truth is, she saved my backside more often than I did hers. She's a scrapper all right, and needin' no apologies for it, either. Not in my book."

It was a compliment of the highest sort, coming from a man like him. But she could do without all the compliments in the world if only he would stay.

The sad strains of Miguel's guitar drifted across the campsite along with the sweet, smoky smell of burning mesquite. Grace stared at the ground, unable to look Reese in the eye, to see what she knew she'd see. She blinked back the tears that threatened. Couldn't he see that going on with his life without her was wrong?

She got to her feet in one swift movement. "Excuse me, I think I'll go take a bath."

"Grace, I need to talk to you," Reese said, standing beside her, rolling the brim of his hat between his two hands.

"It'll have to wait," she told him breezily, holding back tears. "I'm really dying to rinse this dirt off."

He stepped back, gesturing with his hat. "Sure. Sure, we'll talk later."

It took every ounce of will to nod and walk casually away from him—not run as if her life depended on it.

A sinking feeling invaded Reese as he watched her go, scooping up a bar of soap and a towel on the fly. She knew what he wanted to say and she didn't want to hear it.
Okay, Grace,
he thought.
Run. But it won't change a thing.
The sooner he was gone the better for her. The better for them all.

He glanced down at Luke who regarded him measuringly. "Smoke?"

"Sure," Luke answered.

Reese pulled two already rolled cigarettes from the pocket of his black shirt. He lit both, handed one to Luke, and sat down beside him.

Luke inhaled deeply. "Thanks. I can't begin to tell you how I've craved one of these."

"I've been thinking of giving them up." Reese frowned. "They make her sneeze, you know."

Luke glanced in the direction Grace had gone. "Always have." He ran a hand through his rumpled hair. "Donovan, do you—? This is awkward. Do you harbor any intentions toward my sister?"

Sliding his gaze back toward her brother, Reese replied, "Intentions? I intend to send her back where she came from, with you."

"I see. That and break her heart," Luke observed.

Reese looked up at him sharply, then gazed off into the distance. So perceptiveness ran in the family.

Luke's eyes went hard. "I truly hope that wasn't your intention, Donovan, because broken ribs or not, if I thought it was, I'd have to break your jaw for it."

Reese smiled without much humor. "Now I know why she was so determined to get you out of that place. Believe me, it wasn't my intention to hurt her, Luke. If I did, I'm sorry."

Luke eased back down on the bedroll, his face a study in conflicting emotions. "Grace is special. One of a kind. But then I suppose you know that."

"Hard to miss it." He swallowed hard, cursing the fate that was about to steal that specialness away from him.

The sun was on its way down. In another forty-five minutes it would be dark. He planned to ride back to Querétaro tonight and find a room there. He turned back to Luke, struck by the fact that he had the same bluebonnet blue eyes as his sister. Turner eyes.

There were things that needed saying. No point in putting them off.

"Listen," Reese said, standing up. "Dominguez promised to help you get back. I left a boat back on the river, two days' ride east of here, outside a little village called Zimapan. Grace can show you where." He took an agitated drag on his cigarette, stared at it, then threw it to the ground, crushing it with the toe of his boot.

"The boat's yours to Tampico," he continued. "Leave it with the woman taking care of Brew. She'll know what to do. I'll get it later. If you hurry, you can just catch a ride with a captain named Tom Newcastle up the coast." He paced several steps, then turned around and as an afterthought, added, "Grace's and Brew's passage is paid straight through to Virginia. Don't let Tom tell you otherwise. He has a bit of the pirate in him."

"Thanks for the warning," Luke said, watching him carefully. "Why don't you come along? We could use the company. And I'm sure Grace wouldn't argue."

"Sorry, I can't. I've got someplace to go," Reese answered too quickly, then met Luke's searching stare. "You'll take care of her, won't you, Turner?"

Luke had the good form not to look insulted by the question. "She's my sister."

"Right." Reese shifted uncomfortably.

"However," Luke drawled, examining an abraded knuckle, "I seriously doubt brotherly companionship will suffice for Grace now. She's changed. Become a woman. A beautiful one, at that. I suppose that fact won't be lost on the eligible male population of Front Royal."

"Edgar Buchanan?" Reese tried to keep the sneer from his voice.

Luke shook his head. "Edgar Buchanan's illustrious clan claims membership in the FFV—the First Families of Virginia. However, in his case, those initials stand for Four-Footed Vermin. I fully intend to steer her clear of the snake if that's any comfort to you."

It was, then again, it wasn't. Because no matter who she ended up with, it seemed almost impossible to reconcile the idea that it wouldn't be him. He couldn't stand the thought of Grace in another man's arms.

He said, "If there's anything she needs, if anything comes up... I mean, if she needs to reach me for any reason, she can write in care of the postmaster of Tampico. I'll be stopping there now and then to pick up mail."

"Is there a reason she'll need to reach you, Donovan?" The edge to Luke's voice said that he and Grace weren't fooling anyone.

A muscle jumped in his jaw. With a careless shrug he didn't feel, he said, "Y' never know. She might want to drop me a line now and then."

He prayed he hadn't left her carrying his child. If he had, he'd never abandon her. He'd send her money, or whatever else she needed for the child and herself. The admission stuck in his craw like a fish bone. The thought of Grace raising up his son or daughter without him was a pain too great to bear. Almost as sharp as losing her.

He put the thought out of his mind. He couldn't think about that now. Not now, when he had to tell her good-bye.

He leaned down, extending his hand to Luke. "I've got to pack up. I'm glad it all worked out for you, Luke. Good luck."

"Likewise," Luke said, taking Reese's hand in his. "You're leaving now?"

"Soon as I pack up and say my good-byes to Grace."

"I'm obliged to you, Donovan. If I can ever return the favor..."

Reese slipped his hat on and tipped the brim toward Luke. "Thanks. Bye, Luke."

* * *

By the time he'd packed and gone to look for Grace, she'd finished her bath. He found her sitting in the center of a circle of Dominguez's men as if they'd adopted her. She'd changed into her rumpled green calico. Her still-damp, ebony-colored hair caught the rosy colors of the setting sun. She was laughing at something one of the men had said. It made her look even younger than she was and more beautiful. But that wasn't what truly arrested his attention. It was the shot glass of tequila poised midway to her lips that stopped him dead in his tracks.

Tequila? Teetotaling Grace?

"Ay, mu-cha-cha! Bebela!
Drink!" came the shouts from the rebels circled around her. Magdalena was there as well, smiling and urging her on.
"Viva la señorita!"

"Grace," he called sharply. "What are you doing?"

Grace glanced up at him first with surprise, then defiance. She laughed and tossed the fiery drink down like an old lush. That is, until it hit her throat. Then she choked, her eyes bugging out, and she grabbed her neck as if it were on fire.

He stalked closer to the group. The men smiled up at him in welcome, offering him a seat beside them. He ignored them.

"Grace," he repeated, louder this time.

She cleared her throat and casually squeaked, "Oh, hello, Reese." She held the shot glass out for Miguel to refill. Obligingly, he did. She smiled too brightly up at Reese. "Want to join us?"

"No."

"After all, the rescue is over. Luke is safe. Your debt is paid. You're free to do whatever your heart desires—drink, leave..."

"Grace, stop it."

"Why didn't you tell me how much fun it could be?"

He reached down and knocked the drink from her hand.

She gasped as the liquid went sailing. "Now look what you did—"

He grabbed her by the elbow and yanked her upward, pulling her in tow toward his saddled horse. Behind them, a rumble of amusement went through the circle.

"What are you doing?" she cried. "Stop that! Don't you manhandle me, Reese Donovan. I don't wanna go."

"We need to talk."

"I don't wanna talk," she protested, digging in her heels. He could smell the tequila on her breath. A thimbleful had her swaying on her feet.

"Well, we're going to." He hoisted her in the air and slung her over his shoulder.

"Ow! Put me down! Who do you think you are, anyway?"

"Someone who's been there, darlin'," he retorted.