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James’s voice was smooth and well-modulated. Pitched to inspire confidence. He stepped into Desi’s view. His facial muscles were set in the same open, confidence-inspiring expression. His ability to charm people while hiding what he really thought was what made him such a successful gambler. He touched the brim of his hat with his finger. One finger. Her flinch escaped her control. “Desi.”
Caine’s grip on her shoulder tightened. He didn’t have to worry. She would never throw herself into this man’s arms.
James nodded to the other two men, who fanned out on either side of Caine. “I want to thank you all for bringing our Desdemona back to us.”
Tracker was the one who answered, a chill underlying his deep drawl. “It’s our job.”
James’s smile was easy and appreciative, as if he’d been longing to have her back. He probably had been, which accounted for the sincerity she sensed. “I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”
“Why would you think she’d be any trouble?” Caine asked.
“Pretty as she is, surely you’ve noticed she’s not quite right in her head.”
As naturally as most people breathed, James slipped the lie into the conversation. Against her shoulder, she felt Caine stiffen. She straightened her spine, shifting away from the illusion that his strength was hers. It was starting again, just like it had before. The innuendo, the twisting of the truth until everything she’d done in self-defense was nothing more than another example of her instability.
She curled her fingers into fists as the rage beat against the futility of effort. Lawman or not, with her background, Caine wouldn’t listen to her, let alone believe her. What was the word of one deranged woman compared to the word of so many upstanding citizens? When push came to shove, he’d back James, the sheriff and the court who’d given her to them.
Caine’s “Can’t say that I have” caught her totally by surprise, the same way Tracker’s “Bullshit” and Sam’s “For Christ’s sake” did. Usually, when men came up against James’s confidence and smooth manner they went along with him. Caine and his men were the first who hadn’t, and she didn’t care if it was their naturally perverse nature or genuine belief that drove them to do it. She was just glad they had. It gave her a minute more of hope.
James looked her up and down, the concern never leaving his expression, but that twitch at the corner of his eye let her know that he was annoyed. He stepped in, holding his hand up to Caine. If Caine hadn’t chosen that moment to hook his foot over her ankle, she would have kicked James in his teeth.
“James Haddock. Desdemona’s guardian. And I’m glad she’s been having a good day.”
Caine made no effort to shake James’s hand. “I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘good.’”
“That probably wasn’t the best choice of words.”
If anything, the solid wall of muscle against her side got harder. Desi tilted her head back. Caine was staring at James with that impassive face that gave away nothing. To him or to her.
“What would be a better choice?” Caine asked, his finger touching her cheek, the calluses on his fingertip feeling strange against her skin before recurving his hand round her shoulder. Though it was illogical, she felt safer with it there.
“Stable maybe?” James’s sigh was sympathy personified as he stepped back. Behind him, spectators gathered. Most of them just bored townsfolk, but a few like Bert, Bryan and Carl had an interest even if they weren’t going to reveal it. She shuddered. They would never touch her again.
“Ever since her ordeal,” James continued, taking a step closer. “There’s been no knowing how she’s going to be one day to the next.”
Desi sucked in a breath and held it, pointless outrage surging. Again. Caine unhooked his leg from over her feet.
“Ordeal?”
“I’m afraid so.”
She curled her hands into fists, knowing what was coming. How it was going to end. Caine’s chin bumped her head lightly and then his lips brushed her ear. “Breathe, Desi.”
She didn’t think she was ever going to breathe again.
“Ever since she came to us her mental condition has been…delicate.”
“I am not insane.” For once she wanted to say that and have someone really believe her.
“Of course you’re not,” James agreed immediately, that smile she hated stretching his lips and that warning tic pulling infinitesimally at the corner of his eye. “You’ve just had a tough time recovering from your experience with the Comancheros last year.”
Shame and anger warred for dominance. Everyone knew what Comancheros did to captives. Everyone knew how filthy they left a woman. Forever tainted. Scorned.
“That true, Desi?” Caine asked, no discernible inflection in his voice.
“I’m not crazy.”
“I already know that. I was questioning the part about the Comancheros.”
There would be no point in denying it. The sheriff or the priest would back up James’s claim. She dug her nails so hard into her palms they ached. “Yes.”
“Damn, I’m sorry, honey.”
Honey? When had she become honey? She took one deep slow breath, then two.
“Is that how you lost your parents?”
She didn’t bother with three. Simply gave up the struggle for calm. It just wasn’t possible with the threat of her return hanging over her head and Caine bringing the pain of the past to the fore. “Yes.” And her twin sister. She closed her eyes on that memory.
James took a step forward, and the snap of a twig under his foot jerked her eyes open. This time Caine didn’t put his foot over hers as he came almost into reach. “We’ve done our best by her.”
“That’s true,” Sheriff Hatchet said, coming up. “The girl was wild when she first got here. No one could get near her. There was talk of sending her back east to one of those asylums until James here agreed to take her on.” He slapped James on the back. “Don’t know how he did it, but he worked wonders with the girl.” He shook his head in amazement. “Pure wonders.”
“Did he work wonders on you, Desi?” Caine asked, still with no inflection in his voice to give her an idea of what he wanted her to say.
“Her name is Desdemona,” James corrected before she could answer.
“The girl spoke clear enough when she introduced herself.”
That came from Sam.
James took a step nearer. The side of Caine’s hand dug into her hip as he adjusted his aim. James stopped midstride. He blinked, then slowly raised his hands and reversed his steps. The fear on his face gave Desi no end of satisfaction.
“Ranger,” the sheriff interjected. “James is the girl’s legal guardian. If you have a problem with that, you’ll need to take it up with the circuit judge next time he comes through.”
The saddle creaked as Caine shifted his weight. “I’m thinking maybe I will.”
“I assure you, Ranger, we’ve only had her best interests in mind.”
“Can’t help it if it strikes my suspicious bone funny when the territories’ crookedest judge gives a pretty young girl to a gambler for caretaking.”
“Can’t argue with the results,” the sheriff pointed out.
“I guess that would depend on which angle you were viewing the results from,” Caine countered.
To her surprise, Caine slid the rifle under her hands, pushing it forward until the smooth stock pressed against the heels of her hands and the hammer caught on her gloves. “You want to weigh in on James’s caretaking, Desi?”
She looked up at him only to find him staring down at her, green eyes serious. He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant. “I can shoot him?”
He nodded. “Anywhere you want.”
He had to be joking. She fumbled through the gloves to get her finger around the trigger. However, if there was a chance he was serious, she wasn’t missing out. Hate welled up, spreading outward in a cold, dark wave. Could she do it? Did she have it in her to kill him and to hell with the consequences?
She tilted the gun. It wobbled. Caine steadied it for her as she lifted it and sighted down the barrel at James’s face, savoring the terror in his expression, remembering how it felt that night he’d begun “working wonders” with her. Remembering how helpless she’d felt. So damn sick and afraid. So betrayed.
The sight at the end of the muzzle dropped over his torso. She followed the line of buttons on his vest until she came to the waistband of his fancy black broadcloth pants. From there it was only a matter of two more inches before she reached her destination. There. Right there was where she wanted the first shot to go.
James swore and backed up, stumbling over his own feet. With Caine’s help, she kept the rifle trained as he landed on his butt in the mud. The sheriff grabbed for his revolver, but before he got it clear of his holster, she squeezed the trigger, keeping her eyes on the target, wanting to see the bullet hit. Wanting the satisfaction.
At the last second, the gun tilted down and there was an explosion of mud that sprayed between James’s feet. While she stared, not understanding, Caine removed the gun from her hands.
“Guess that answers my question.”
But it didn’t answer hers. She wanted the gun back in her hands. She wanted one second more. She wanted James dead. She stared at the gloves overwhelming her hands and felt Caine all around her. Another man using her to get what he wanted. “Why did you stop me?”
The quaver in her voice was barely perceptible but Caine heard it. Desi had a belly full of anger and no outlet. He tipped her face up. The pain and rage in her eyes ate at his gut. “I figure you’ve got enough scars, you don’t need the kind killing a man can bring.”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
He released her chin and moved the rifle out of her reach, aiming it at the men rushing up from the edge of town. “I would.”
He squeezed with his right knee and Chaser turned into the oncoming crowd. “You best be telling those men to holster their guns, Sheriff, or this town’s going to be short some of its important citizens.”
“You can’t just come in here and start shooting people, Allen.”
“Unless you’re going to stop me,” he told the older man, “I can pretty much do whatever the hell I want.”
And what he wanted right now was justice.
“He’s got a point,” Tracker drawled, a revolver in each hand, his horse tossing its head as the tension built. “We just start shooting up towns whenever we get the urge, eventually someone’s going to slap up a wanted poster with our pictures on it.”
“Not that I particularly mind,” Sam added, his new revolver in one hand and a shotgun in the other. “Hell, we’ve skirted the wrong side of legal all our lives, but you know damn well they aren’t going to do our handsome faces justice on those damn posters and that would pain me.”
“What would you suggest?”
“We should just take the girl and leave.”
Caine pretended to consider the suggestion as the sheriff—as crooked a son of a bitch as Caine had ever seen—settled his weight into his boots with misplaced confidence. “There are ten of us here and only three of you, son. I think you’d better settle down.”
Caine had no intention of settling down. A short, stocky figure in brown robes pushed through the crowd. Caine bumped Desi’s butt with his thigh to get her attention. “Desi, I want you to slide on down now and go stand with Father Gerard.”
He didn’t want her anywhere near him if shooting commenced. He held her wrists as her feet touched the ground, stretching her back, forcing her to look at him. At the base of her throat, where the coat parted, he could see her pulse pounding. She was afraid but game. A woman a man could depend on.
“No running. Not this time.” He held her gaze, trusting Tracker and Sam to guard his back. She finally nodded. “Give me your word.” A flare of surprise crossed her face, and then that chin set and she gave a short nod.
“Good.” He let her go. She limped over to Father Gerard, her steps awkward due to the way he’d tied the moccasins and the cuts on her feet. As soon as she reached the priest, he put his arms around her. She held up her hands. The older man went to work on the knots. Across the small distance her triumph was palpable. Caine nodded, ceding her the small victory. Then he turned back to the gambler. “I’m revoking your guardianship.”
“You can’t do that.” A portly man who shouldn’t have anything to do with the discussion broke in. Immediately, another man shushed him. Both were better dressed than farmers. All confident. None of them should have cared one way or another what happened to one small woman with no family or influence.
I’ll die there.
Desi’s words took on deeper meaning. An ugly suspicion took root as he pulled the puzzle pieces together. Mavis’s unreasonable dislike. The sheriff’s interest. The judge giving her over to the gambler. Father Gerard’s veiled innuendos about circumstances and his request for Caine to watch out for her personally. Son of a bitch. He didn’t like the conclusion he was reaching. He waved the rifle barrel at the fat man. “Who are you?”
The man paled but didn’t back up, obviously under some illusion that Caine would suffer a pang of conscience at plugging him. “Bryan Sanders. Representative of Steel, Jones and Steel.”
“And who are they?” From the cut of the man’s clothes, “they” were well-heeled.
“A group of gentlemen with financial interests in the region.”
“Bankers.” Sam spat. Sam liked bankers about as much as he liked gamblers.
Caine considered himself to be more open-minded, but in this case, he had to agree. He was developing his own dislike for the fat banker. “It must have been real tempting for y’all, having a pretty young woman come through, no family to speak for her, no one to turn to, traumatized by her experiences.”
The women pushed in from the edge of the crowd. One gasped. Another murmured. The banker drew himself to his full height, his jowls jiggling with his outrage. “I don’t think I like your innuendo.”
“Hate to break it to you, but your likes and dislikes aren’t high on my consideration list.”
“What the hell are you getting at, Allen?” James asked, getting to his feet, wiping mud from his pants. “We took her in, saved her from those devils. Gave her a home. Community.”
Chaser stepped sideways as a horse bumped him.
“Priorities, Caine.”
He spared Tracker a glance, who in turn jerked his chin in Desi’s direction. Her face was bleached white as she stood there, dwarfed by his coat and the truth she didn’t want known. Her chin lifted high as her gaze met his, but he got the impression all that was holding her up was that damn pride as the women murmured among themselves, enjoying the scandal he’d begun.
Caine bit back the rage burning in his gut. Tracker was right. First things first. “We’re taking Desi with us and if anyone has anything to say against it—” he levered a bullet into the chamber, letting the fury roll through him in an open challenge “—step up now so we can get the discussing behind us.”
To his surprise it was Father Gerard who stepped forward. “I can’t let you do that, Caine.”
“I don’t rightly see where you can stop me, Padre.” More titters spread through the crowd.
“I cannot let an unmarried woman go off with three men, lawmen or not.”
“Whatever we have planned, it’s better than what’s here.”
The stocky priest shook his nearly bald head. “It can’t be allowed.”
The longer they stood there, the more dutch courage the men were getting and the more trigger-happy fingers were twitching.
“If you take her like this, she’ll still be James’s ward, and still his by law.”
Caine kneed Chaser in a half circle, drawing his revolver. “Any who want to dispute my claim know where to find me.”
“I’m not going with you.”
He wasn’t surprised when Desi’s protest was the only one spoken. There were times when a deadly reputation came in right handy.
“Ten months ago when I saved your life, Caine Allen,” Father Gerard continued in his calm way, “you told me I could ask a favor anytime, and it would be granted.”
