Gunslinger (4 page)

“Those two over by the barn look to be about sixteen,” Desperado observed. “And those two walking across the yard can’t even be that old. How many drovers have you hired?”

“Twelve. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Are any over sixteen?” Desperado probed relentlessly.

“A few.”

“One…two?”

“Dammit, what business is it of yours? I’m doing the best I can.”

“I’m just trying to prove that you
do
need me, Miss Sommers. These young pups are incapable of defending your herd. You offered me a job today and I’ve decided to accept. How much does it pay?”

“Fifty dollars a month and found.”

Desperado nearly laughed in her face. The pay was chicken feed compared to what Talbot was paying him. “This should be a prosperous ranch. Why is everything in disrepair?” Desperado knew his father hadn’t been a wealthy man, but neither had he been a poor one. Their taxes had always been paid on time, with money left over to make repairs when needed.

“The drought a few years back was hard on us. The water dried up and we lost most of our herd. And Mama never was good with money. Somehow the inheritance my stepfather left her slipped through her fingers. I’m trying to turn the last disastrous years around and make a profit this year. My hard work will have paid off once I sell my herd and pay the taxes. I’m not going to lose my land,” she said fiercely.

Desperado’s dark brows slanted downward. Hearing Chloe speak so possessively of
his
inheritance gave him a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. And learning how Norie had dribbled away his father’s money gave him another reason to hold a grudge against the Sommers women. Nothing was going to give him back his inheritance, but he could make damn sure Norie’s daughter wasn’t the one to enjoy the fruits of his father’s labors.

“Fifty dollars will do just fine,” he said, “but I’ll expect fringe benefits.” His eyes glinted with a predatory light.

Chloe went still, but the wary look in her green eyes gave mute testimony to her confusion. “F-f-fringe benefits? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Desperado’s grin was anything but comforting as he cupped her cheek in his callused palm. “Think about it,” he said in a raspy whisper most women found hard to resist. He dropped his hand and his smile faded. What in the hell was wrong with him? When he was around the enticing Miss Chloe Sommers, all he could think about was sex and how he’d like to peel those trousers down her long legs and awaken the woman hiding within her masculine attire. Unfortunately, lusting after the woman he’d been paid to ruin wasn’t a good idea.

Then again, what could it hurt?

Her full red lips lured him. Seduced him. He leaned in for a stolen kiss and felt the cold barrel of a gun poking him in a place so vital he blanched. His brows shot upward and he slowly backed away, his hands flung upward in surrender.

“Whoa, lady, take it easy. Point that gun elsewhere. I’m kinda fond of the family jewels.”

“Ours is strictly a business arrangement, Mr. Jones. I do not like to be touched, is that clear? Keep that in mind and we’ll deal well with one another. You can take your gear to the bunkhouse. If you’re hungry, go to the cookhouse. Randy will rustle you up some grub to hold you over till supper.”

Desperado heard little beyond her remark about not wanting to be touched. Had he mistaken the interest in her eyes when she gazed at him?

“I’m not hungry. I’ll take my gear to the bunk-house and have a look around, talk to some of the drovers, see what’s going on.” He started to walk away, then whirled around to face her. “By the way, just so you’ll be prepared, I’ll be touching you again. Only the next time I’ll make sure your guns are lying on the ground beside your clothes. And the only thing primed and loaded will be me.”

The battle Chloe waged to keep herself from raising her gun and shooting the smirk off Desperado’s face was a fierce one. She feared she’d made a terrible mistake. She had troubles enough without butting heads with a half-breed gunslinger with a hankering for her body. Men were all alike. They were base creatures driven by the appendage that hung between their legs. They took what they wanted from a woman without so much as a by-your-leave and didn’t care who they hurt to satisfy their needs.

It wasn’t Desperado she saw when she’d pulled her gun. It was Tate Talbot, despoiler of innocent women. At one time she had been enamored of Tate. He’d come calling on her, and her mother had approved of the courtship. But she’d learned the hard way that Tate wasn’t the man she thought he was. He could be cruel and vicious when he wanted something he couldn’t have. It galled her to think she had fallen for his line of bull. One night Tate had taken her to a dance in town. He started to drink, and when he drove her home he—

“Miss Chloe, is that the gunslinger everyone in town is talking about?”

Chloe slapped her gun back in her holster and discarded her painful recollections long enough to answer the young towheaded cowboy who had trotted up to join her.

“His name is Desperado Jones, Cory,” Chloe said. “I hired him to guard the herd during the trail drive.”

Cory’s young face took on a belligerent look. “Don’t know why we need a hired gunslinger. Me and the boys can take care of trouble.”

“You and the boys will be busy tending to the herd. Hiring Mr. Jones was a precautionary measure. I need to get those cattle to the railhead safely, and you all know the dangers involved. I explained about Calvin Talbot before you hired on. He’ll do anything to keep me from selling the herd.”

“I reckon,” Cory said sullenly. “But there’s some who won’t like having a hired gun around. Take Rowdy for example, he’s hotheaded and rattlesnake mean when riled. I hope Jones don’t think because we’re young we ain’t capable.”

Chloe had had no idea her drovers felt like that. She’d thought they’d be pleased as punch to have an experienced gunman along on the trail drive. Not only would she have to keep Desperado Jones under control, but now it looked as if she had to keep peace between the cowboys and the gunslinger.

Desperado Jones walked into the empty bunkhouse, chose a bottom bunk next to the door and dropped his saddlebags. The bunkhouse was neat and cleaner than most, he thought as he cast a jaded glance around the room. Various articles of clothing were draped over chairs to dry in front of the potbellied stove. A guitar was propped against a bunk and a harmonica lay on the table where someone had abandoned it.

Desperado was about to wander outside and get acquainted with some of the hands when he heard the door slam and the jangle of spurs. Years of living dangerously made him whirl and reach for his gun. He relaxed when he recalled that he had nothing to fear here. He soon discovered his mistake.

The cowboy who swaggered up to him was more lad than man, but Desperado didn’t like the ornery look on his boyish features.

“You Desperado Jones?” the boy asked.

Desperado nodded. “Who are you?”

“Rowdy. That’s my bunk you just claimed for yourself.”

Desperado’s face hardened. If the kid wanted mean, Desperado would give him mean. Best to get these things out of the way before settling in. It was time this cocky youngster learned not to mess with Desperado Jones.

“It’s my bunk now, kid,” he said in a raspy whisper that turned most men’s legs to jelly. Unfortunately, Rowdy was too young and cocky to know real fear.

“I don’t care if you
are
a gunslinger,” Rowdy claimed, eyeing Desperado warily. “The only reason you’re here is because Miss Chloe decided she needed an experienced gunhand. I coulda told her she didn’t need you, but she didn’t ask me. I can shoot a gun as well as any cowboy and rope better than most. We don’t need a gunslinger on the trail drive.”

“I’m here to stay, Rowdy,” Desperado said, “so get used to it. You got an argument with that? We can always settle it outside.”

He flexed his hand over his gun, hoping to frighten the boy enough to back him down before real trouble started. The last thing he wanted was to draw against another cocky kid with an itchy trigger finger.

Desperado held his breath, waiting for Rowdy to make up his mind. Prudence must have won out, for Rowdy shrugged and took a cautious step backward. His expression wasn’t so ornery anymore, just belligerent.

“Take the damn bunk if it means that much to you,” Rowdy muttered, backing away toward the door. “I can’t stand here jawing with you when there’s work to be done. If the herd don’t get branded in time, the trail drive will be delayed. And I know Miss Chloe won’t like that.”

Desperado merely smiled as Rowdy beat a hasty retreat. He sighed, wondering if he would have to intimidate every one of the hired hands before they accepted him.

“What are you trying to do, alienate all my hands?” Chloe asked from the doorway. “You’re supposed to get along with them, not scare the stuffing out of them.”

Desperado bit out a curse when he saw Chloe’s trouser-clad figure poised in the doorway, long legs splayed, hands on curvy hips. It was all he could do to keep his eyes from popping out and rolling on the floor. She looked so damn sexy his hands itched to fill themselves with her. His eyes kindled with desire as she crossed the room to confront him.

“That was nothing, just a small misunderstanding,” Desperado said. “ ’Pears like the hands resent me. Rowdy is a troublemaker. He needed to be put down. It’s best the hands know right off that I’m a bad-ass gunslinger who won’t take sass from anyone.”

“Just as long as you know I’m the boss,” Chloe huffed. “Everyone here takes orders from me.”

Desperado had the unaccountable urge to laugh. It was just like a woman to think she was in charge. Chloe’s mother had been like that. But he was a stronger man than his father. No woman was going to tie Desperado Jones in knots like his stepmother did to his father. If he ever had a child, which was highly unlikely, he wouldn’t let some woman talk him into sending him or her away.

“Is that why you dress like a man?” Desperado challenged. “So the hired hands will take you seriously?” He thumbed his hat back and let his heated gaze slowly roam over her curves. “Let me tell you, lady, it ain’t working. You’re too damn provocative in those tight trousers to be mistaken for anything but a beautiful woman. I’m surprised a man hasn’t put you in your place.”

“And just where is that place, Mr. Jones?” Chloe challenged. “Are you deliberately goading me?”

“Why, ma’am,” Desperado drawled, letting his gaze linger on her heaving breasts, “why would I goad you? Everyone knows a woman’s place is in the home, taking care of her man and raising his children. A real woman doesn’t prance around in tight trousers, trying to run a ranch like a man.”

“Why you despicable…half-breed!” Chloe flung out. “How dare you ridicule my mode of dress or the way I live my life! You’re a hired gun, a man who kills for a living. You have no business finding fault with me. For your information, I don’t need a man. I’m perfectly content with my life. Having someone telling me how to dress and what to do doesn’t appeal to me.”

“What does appeal to you?” Desperado whispered in a sexy-as-sin voice. “Doesn’t
anything
about men please you?”

“Very little,” Chloe retorted. The look she gave him dared him to prove otherwise.

Desperado was just the man to answer her unspoken challenge. Before she realized what he intended, before she could reach for her gun, he tugged her into his arms and held her captive against him. He heard her gasp as her breasts came into heated contact with the hard wall of his chest, but that was the last sound she made.

Chloe stared into his face, stunned by what she saw. His eyes were narrowed, his lips full and soft. His nostrils were flared as if he was aroused by the scent of her. Awareness slammed through her as she sensed his sharp desire, and the knowledge that he wanted her sent heat surging through her veins. He enthralled her. Mesmerized her with his animal magnetism. His dark face was stark with hunger and sexual arousal, and she suddenly knew what being prey for the hunter felt like. She realized what was coming the moment his head lowered toward hers, but the strength of his arms prevented her from reaching for her gun.

No! This can
’
t be happening
, her mind cried out. No man had touched her since…And that had been such a horrible experience, she’d vowed she’d let no man touch her again. Yet here she was, caught in a web of seduction so powerful she felt like a female for the first time in over three years. She made a feeble effort to shove him away, but her strength had suddenly deserted her.

Then his mouth was gliding smoothly over hers, prodding her lips open with his tongue, tasting her and letting her taste him. His taste was intoxicating. Delicious. Manly. Without realizing it, she stopped fighting him and gave herself up to the kiss. She wasn’t aware of what his hands were doing until she felt them slide beneath her jacket to cup her breasts.

Determined to put the gunslinger in his place once and for all, Chloe broke off the kiss and managed to shove him away. “Don’t you ever do that again!”

Desperado stepped back and stared at her. Her eyes glowed beneath her mask of fury. Her breasts rose and fell with her ragged breathing. He gave her a slow, dimpled smile. “I don’t need to. I just proved that you do need a man.” His smile grew wider. “I knew there had to be
something
you liked about men.”

Enraged beyond speech, Chloe hauled off and slapped him. Then she whirled on her heel and stomped away, her hips swaying in time to her jangling spurs.

Chapter Three

During the following days Desperado reacquainted himself with the ranch and land that should have been his. The more he saw, the deeper his resentment grew against Norie Sommers and her daughter. He began to understand just how much he’d been deprived of and felt comfortable with his decision to work for Talbot. If he couldn’t have the ranch, then neither should Chloe, who was unrelated to Ted Ralston by blood.

Desperado’s attempts to befriend the cowboys were met with suspicion and outright hostility. Time and again he was rebuffed by the resentful hands when he offered to lend a hand with the branding or join in the preparations for the trail drive. After a while he stopped offering and spent long hours riding out alone, pretending to search the property for trespassers. After all, wasn’t that what Chloe Sommers was paying him for?

So far neither of the Talbots had caused any mischief, and Desperado wondered when and where they would strike. If nothing happened in the next day or two, he was going to have to ride into town and find out what in the hell was going on. If they had something devious in mind, he wanted to know about it.

Desperado rather enjoyed riding the perimeters of the Ralston spread. Even if the land belonged to another, he took possessive pride in the acres of rolling hills, flat plains and abundant grass that supported a sizable herd of prime longhorn cattle. If the land were his, he knew he could make it prosper, just as his father had done. He could spit nails whenever he thought about how his stepmother had neglected the land and spent his father’s life savings. But when his thoughts turned to Chloe, the hatred he felt for Norie dissipated somewhat, turning to something of a more intimate nature.

Chloe, with her taut bottom, firm breasts and long legs, made him ache every time he saw her strutting around the ranch. Despite the painful memories her name evoked, Desperado found himself yearning to thrust himself inside her and hear her call out his name while he stroked her to shuddering completion. He recalled that she was only four or so years younger than he, and he seriously doubted that the gun-toting miss was still a virgin.

He wondered where Chloe was now. He’d seen her ride out this morning, and Cory had told him she’d gone to look for strays the hands might have missed. She could be anywhere. He didn’t know why he should worry about her; she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. On that thought Desperado decided to return to the ranch house. His stomach was growling, and Randy was a fairly decent cook.

Desperado was galloping past a stand of cottonwood trees that followed a meandering stream when he heard a shot. He drew rein and listened. The sound of voices echoed through the trees, and a prickling began at the base of his skull. He wheeled his mustang into the woods.

Chloe had spied a calf stuck in the mud beside the stream and had dismounted to rescue it. Ankle-deep in mud, she’d pushed and pulled until the maverick bawled out a loud cry and sprang free. Wiping her hands on her trousers, she walked back to where she’d left her horse and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Tate Talbot and two of his rowdy friends converging upon her. She made a mad dash for her horse but was stopped cold in her tracks when the three horsemen surrounded her.

Undaunted, Chloe reached for her gun, but she wasn’t fast enough. Tate’s two pals had their guns cocked and trained on her.

“Aw, you wouldn’t shoot me, would you, Chloe, honey?” Tate taunted in that charming voice he’d used on her when they were courting. It was a voice she’d come to hate with an abiding passion.

“Would a starving man beg for food?” Chloe shot back. “What do you want, Tate?”

“Just a few words with you.”

Chloe’s blood chilled and she swung her gun up, pulled the hammer back and aimed at Tate despite the six-shooters pointed straight at her middle.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Tate warned as he dismounted and walked toward her. “My friends have itchy trigger fingers. Drop the weapon, honey.”

Her finger tightened on the trigger. Tate must have divined her intention for he dove for her gun hand and deflected it upward just as the gun fired. Tate spit out a curse as he wrested the gun from her hand and tossed it to the ground.

“You weren’t this ornery when we were courting,” Tate complained.

Chloe’s chin rose in open defiance. “I’ve learned a great deal since then,” she hissed. “I learned to shoot straight and distrust bastards like you.”

“And you learned to wear trousers and flaunt yourself like a cheap whore,” he taunted.

“Men learned to keep their distance,” Chloe said with pride. “Go away and take your friends with you.”

“I thought you and me could renew our ‘friendship,’ ” he purred into her ear. “I’ll send the boys away. No one need know what we’re doing out here. Maybe this time you’ll appreciate what I can do for you. I’m the only man who has ever mastered you, Chloe Sommers.”

Chloe laughed in his face. “The only way I’ll ever appreciate you is dead. I was your victim once but never again. Mr. Jones is in my employ now.” Her gaze fell on Tate’s injured hand. “You have reason to know he’s a dangerous man. Leave now or you’ll find yourself at the business end of his gun. This time he won’t be so lenient with you.”

“Desperado Jones won’t do a damn thing to me,” Tate bragged loudly.

“Tate,” one of his pals warned, “keep your mouth shut. Your pa will have your hide if you spill the beans.”

Chloe wondered what that was all about but didn’t have time to pursue the subject as Tate grabbed her with his left hand and pulled her against him. “If I wanted to I could take you right here, with the boys watching, but I’m gonna let you worry and wonder when I’m gonna catch you alone again. I’m just gonna give you a little taste of what you’re gonna get next time we meet.”

Chloe felt bile rising in her throat as Tate’s mouth slammed down on hers. At one time she hadn’t minded his kisses. She’d even considered spending a lifetime with him, until he’d shown his true colors. She’d been naive and foolish then, blinded by his blond good looks and boyish charm. Then in one night of pure hell he’d exposed his black soul and mean spirit.

In a move that caught Tate by surprise, Chloe grabbed his broken hand and gave it a vicious twist. Tate screamed and spun away, nursing his injured hand against his chest.

His face contorted with fury and pain. “You vicious bitch! You’re gonna be sorry you did that.”

He started toward her and she backed away, abruptly stopping at the edge of the water. “You’re gonna get it now,” he warned. “Grab her, boys,” he bellowed to his friends. “She needs to be taught a lesson.”

“Drop your guns. All of you. One false move and you’re dead men. Move away from her, Talbot. Real slow like.”

Chloe let out a ragged cry. Never had she been so happy to hear that raspy, mean-as-hell voice. Desperado sat rigid in the saddle, his face, what she could see of it in the shadows beneath the brim of his hat, made even her shiver with fear.

Tate backed away from Chloe, his hands raised in the air. “Now see here, Jones, Pa ain’t gonna like this.”

“Somehow I don’t think he’d approve of what you intended to do to Miss Sommers.”

“She wants it,” Tate said sullenly. “That sweet little body of hers is just crying for it. Hell, her and me—”

Chloe exploded in outrage when she realized what Tate was about to reveal. She spied her gun lying at her feet, swept it up into her hand, and before Tate had finished speaking she cocked back the hammer and shot his hat off.

Tate picked up his hat and stared at the hole. “Now what did you go and do that for?”

“Guess,” Chloe bit out. “I aimed for your head. Be grateful I was too angry to shoot straight. Get out of here and don’t come back. If you or your friends set foot on my property again, I’ll consider you trespassing and shoot to kill.”

Tate gave her a knowing smirk. “This ain’t gonna be your land for long. You gotta get those cows to the railhead before you can pay your taxes. I’m betting you don’t make it.”

Chloe saw red. She raised her gun, so angry she would have plugged him through the heart if Desperado hadn’t stopped her.

“He’s not worth it, Chloe. Put the gun down. If there’s any killing to be done, I’ll do it.” He turned to Tate and his pals. “Go on. Get out of here before I let the lady have her way.”

Tate mounted with difficulty, somewhat handicapped without the use of his right hand. “I’m going.” He cast Desperado a meaningful look. “I’ll talk to you, later.”

Chloe was too relieved to pay much heed to Tate’s words. She kept her gun trained on him until he and his men rode out of sight. Then she let her arm fall and collapsed against a tree. Desperado was out of the saddle immediately.

“Are you all right? Did they…they didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“The worst that bastard did was kiss me,” she said, scrubbing her lips with the back of her hand. “How did you know where to find me?”

“I was in the vicinity and heard the gunshot.” He stared at her, his thoughts running amok. A gut feeling told him there was more than met the eye between Chloe and Tate Talbot. Tate’s words hinted at shared intimacy, and that puzzled him. Especially in light of Chloe’s palpable hatred for the young fool.

“Thank God,” Chloe said on a sigh.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to ride out alone. Next time, take one of the hands. Or tell me and I’ll accompany you. That’s what you’re paying me for. Can you ride?”

“I’m perfectly fine.” She stepped away from the tree and staggered forward two steps before Desperado swept her up into his arms.

“You’re not as tough as you look, are you?” he rasped into her ear. “You can dress and act like a man but underneath you’re all woman, soft and sweet smelling. Just like a kitten. Shall I make you purr for me, honey?”

Chloe stiffened in his arms. “Don’t call me honey. I’m Miss Sommers to you. And you can put me down now. I’m perfectly capable of standing on my own two feet.”

Desperado wanted to kick himself for speaking aloud his thoughts. Chloe made him do and say things he wouldn’t have done or said under any other circumstances. He had a reputation to uphold, and displaying softness toward a woman wasn’t the kind of image a gunslinger needed. With a gruffness more in keeping with his image, he tossed Chloe into her saddle and swiftly mounted his own horse.

“Are you ready, boss?” he mocked.

“Whenever you are, Mr. Jones,” she said haughtily.

He let her lead the way, deliberately remaining behind in order to watch for intruders, or so he told himself. But if he wanted to be perfectly honest, he ate her dust so he could watch her taut little rump bouncing in the saddle.

Everyone was sleeping that night when Desperado rose stealthily from his bunk and slipped outside with his boots in one hand and gunbelt in the other. He had gone to bed fully dressed, and by the time he cut his horse out from the remuda and rode bareback into the night, his gunbelt was firmly in place and his boots were on his feet where they belonged. He wasn’t certain where Tate would be waiting, but he figured it wouldn’t be too far from the house. And the only place nearby where horsemen could hide was in a shallow ravine a short distance behind the house.

He rode to the edge of the ravine and drew rein. His hunch paid off when he saw a lone horseman making his way up from the ravine. Brilliant moonlight made it easy to identify Tate Talbot. He was alone.

“About time you showed up,” Tate complained.

“I wasn’t sure where to find you.”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t come right out and name the place with Chloe Sommers listening, now could I?”

“I’m here now, what is it?”

“Pa wanted me to tell you we’re gonna make our move tonight.”

“I thought you made it earlier when you accosted Miss Sommers.”

“Naw, that wasn’t part of it. That was between me and Chloe. That’s another ax I got to grind with you, Jones. You stopped something that was none of your business. Chloe and me go a long way back. Don’t interfere, you might not like the consequences.”

“Are you hankering to get your other hand shot up?” Desperado drawled.

Tate reached for his gun with his left hand but must have thought better of it, for he let it drop at his side. “Pa is calling the shots now, but my time will come.”

“Is that all, Talbot?” There were many things Desperado didn’t like about Tate Talbot. One of them was the way his lip curled when he talked about Chloe. What in the hell was between them anyway?

“Look behind you. Even as I speak the barn is going up in flames.”

Desperado looked over his shoulder and cursed viciously when he saw a bright red glow lighting up the night sky. “Was that necessary?”

“Pa says it is. He wants to scare Chloe so she’ll think twice about driving her cattle to Dodge. If she sells them in Texas, she’ll get only five dollars a head, not enough to pay her taxes. That’s why she’s so anxious to take them to the railhead, you know. She can get twelve dollars a head there.”

Desperado stared at the angry glow turning the night sky red and thought about the various animals kept in the barn: three mares due to foal and two prize stallions his father had bred. He felt like a lowdown skunk.

Suddenly Desperado felt a terrible need to return to the ranch. He touched his spurs to his mustang and the powerful animal took flight.

“Wait!” Tate called after him. “We’re not finished yet. Pa said you’re to do whatever is necessary to change Chloe’s mind about the trail drive.”

Desperado returned to a scene straight from hell. The barn roof was ablaze and the fire was spreading fast. The terrified screams of trapped animals pierced the air. Everything was chaos as the cowboys ran around without direction. He looked for Chloe but didn’t see her. First things first, he decided as he firmly and deftly organized a bucket brigade. The brigade was in place when he saw Chloe stumble from the barn, leading one of the stallions.

He sprinted forward, barking to one of the men to take the horse while he led Chloe away from the inferno.

“There’s a mare still in there,” Chloe gasped between bouts of coughing. “I have to go back.”