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A Fortune for the Outlaw's Daughter
Lauri Robinson
More Precious than Gold…Cole ‘Lucky’ DuMont is off to forge his future in the Alaskan hills. Standing in his way… ? A dark-haired beauty in need of rescue.Maddie Stockwell’s life has always been ruled by men. And now, to ensure her freedom, she strikes a deal with her gorgeous saviour: she’ll help Lucky in his quest and find her own fortune along the way! Except when Maddie has to pose as Lucky’s wife she feels a thrill she could never have anticipated.And suddenly there’s something even more tempting than gold on her mind…
His lips left hers, but only to return again…like a flat rock thrown just right, so it would gently skim over the top of a pond. She’d always been amazed by that, and this was just as incredible.
When Lucky’s lips settled upon hers for an extended length of time her knees threatened to give way all over again.
As gently and perfectly as the kiss had started—she was sure this time that it was a kiss—it ended, and Lucky once again folded his arms around her and held her tight. She didn’t know when her arms had wrapped themselves around his waist, but they had, and she kept them there, hugging him in return.
They parted by some mutual silent understanding a short time later. Maddie wasn’t sure what to do, how to react, and wondered if she should be embarrassed, letting him kiss her like that, but couldn’t come up with a reason why. Not when deep inside she was longing to be as close to him as possible. It was strong … similar to how badly she wanted gold.
But that couldn’t be. She didn’t want anything as badly as she wanted gold.
Author Note (#ulink_62a062cf-0e15-50ed-9a8d-165ca7c8211a)
I’ve had many people say they have a story idea for me. Usually I have so many stories already swirling around in my head there simply isn’t room for one more. Not this time. When a friend e-mailed me after returning from mining gold in Alaska with a story idea I was intrigued. He’d set the plot based on a historical couple he’d learned about, and gave me the freedom to embellish it. Which I did—diamonds weren’t discovered in Arkansas until a few years after Maddie and Lucky’s story.
That’s part of the fun of writing fiction!
Thanks, Chris, for the story idea. I hope you and everyone else who picks up this book enjoys how Maddie and Lucky strike it rich.
A Fortune for the Outlaw’s Daughter
Lauri Robinson
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
A lover of fairytales and cowboy boots, LAURI ROBINSON can’t imagine a better profession than penning happily-ever-after stories about men (and women) who pull on a pair of boots before riding off into the sunset—or kick them off for other reasons. Lauri and her husband raised three sons in their rural Minnesota home, and are now getting their just rewards by spoiling their grandchildren.
Visit: www.laurirobinson.blogspot.com (http://www.laurirobinson.blogspot.com), www.facebook.com/lauri.robinson1 (http://www.facebook.com/lauri.robinson1), https://twitter.com/LauriR (https://twitter.com/LauriR)
To my brother, Norman,
for unknowingly giving me the idea
for the name of Lucky’s ship.
Contents
Cover (#u4d71c50f-1e0d-5304-a639-9957a815193a)
Introduction (#u13447429-c9cd-59c5-b9aa-941c329d887b)
Author Note (#uc6735330-b0ba-5508-9a3c-5785cf0666e6)
Title Page (#uc9c20475-029c-57e5-968b-ac06f50c12da)
About the Author (#uf393bc49-22c1-5d38-bfd5-28737d4960aa)
Dedication (#uc4c1611b-039f-5651-a6cd-6745a939c666)
Chapter One (#u04f25c7e-f274-5413-9384-0e3b002d98c4)
Chapter Two (#uafd43aeb-ea85-5efb-8dc9-0f8c6842ae2b)
Chapter Three (#ue551a855-aad4-523f-bdfd-55ef2fa10dd2)
Chapter Four (#ubb37ce25-d2a1-57a6-ab97-179aac87421b)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_e34251bb-4484-5069-a30e-6122fc96db2b)
Life had never been easy for Maddie Stockwell. Being the daughter of the outlaw Bass Mason, a man who’d changed his name more often than he’d changed his socks, had forced her to look out for herself at an early age. She was quick on her feet, too. Quicker than the man with the hands that had just seized her could possibly know.
The fingers digging into her waist sent curse words—things she’d never say aloud but had heard numerous times—running through her mind. They muffled the piano music and shouts of people filling the saloons on both sides of the alleyway. Furthermore, the hand over her mouth stank of fish, and the pressure of that hand pressed grit into her lips and cheeks, igniting her fury.
Whoever he was—this man who’d grabbed her as she left the community well—was big. Strong, too, given the way he hoisted her off the ground, dragging her backward.
Claws of fear dug into her throat, but it was the anger surging inside she focused on. Not again. Did every man think all they had to do was hover in the night darkness and snatch her up as if they were picking peaches or something?
They might be able to do that to other women, but not her.
With movements she’d acquired while fighting off those who had ridden with her father, Maddie kicked one heel backward into the man’s knee as she shot an elbow straight back, catching his ribs. She also flung her head back, connecting with what she assumed was his nose by the way he screeched.
She didn’t stop there, though. The frustration inside her hadn’t played out. As the arms around her went slack, she spun and brought the now half-full water bucket around at full speed. It met the side of his head with a solid thud, and her well-aimed kick targeted right below the belt buckle sent him the rest of the way to the ground.
He was no longer a threat, rolling on the ground as he was, but the names he was shouting, the things he was calling her—as if any of this was her fault—had her temper flaring.
Maddie swung the bucket again, cracking him upside the head. The last bits of water flew in all directions while the bucket splintered into pieces. She froze for a moment when the man went quiet. As swiftly as his hands had grabbed her moments ago, something she couldn’t describe gripped her from the inside.
Her entire being shook as if she stood in the center of a Rocky Mountain snowstorm instead of a warm, dark California night. Mad Dog had found her again. This wasn’t him, but it was one of his men.
Shouts, muffled by the throbbing in her ears, had her spinning about. Two men, as big as the one on the ground, barreled down the alley.
Instinct said run, but where?
She couldn’t go back to Hester’s. That would jeopardize the other girls, so Maddie leaped over the prone body and headed for the street at the end of the alley several buildings ahead. Her heart raced as fast as her feet. The ground rumbled from the weight of those chasing her, and the opening seemed to get farther away instead of closer.
A whoop or whistle had her chancing a glance over her shoulder.
Like the devil riding out of hell, a horse raced right between the two men, knocking them aside.
“Hold out your arm, darling,” the rider shouted. “Lucky will save you!”
The two men were scrambling to their feet. The horse getting closer. Her choices were clear: get run over and caught or leap on the horse behind the devil himself.
Instinct, again, had her choosing the latter.
Turning, she held out an arm, and as the man’s hand clamped her elbow, she jumped, flinging one leg over the back of the saddle. She’d leaped on behind her father more than once, way back when, before he’d left her with Smitty. He’d been the one man she could always count on, Smitty that was, right up until the end. God rest his soul. Unlike most men, he deserved a place behind the pearly gates.
“Hold on, darling,” the man in front of her shouted.
The clop of hooves echoed against the bricks as the horse rounded the corner, entering the street. Maddie wrapped both arms around the stranger to keep from sliding off, and caught a glimpse of her pursuers shaking their fists in the air.
Laughter from the rider in front of her filled the air, and feeling a touch of elation, Maddie shouted, “Are you?”
“Am I what?” the man asked in return.
“Lucky?” She could use some of that. Hers seemed to have run out weeks ago.
“Hold on, and you’ll find out.”
He took another corner, and then zigged and zagged down streets and up others, turning so many times she was dizzy, and lost, but Maddie kept her knees bent, legs out of his way as the man heeled the horse, keeping it at a full run.
Sea air—a mixture of dirty water, salt, dead fish and wet wood—stung her nose when he brought the horse to an abrupt halt. They dismounted at the same time, and he grabbed her by the back of one arm, propelling her in one direction while slapping the horse on the backside, sending it in the opposite way.
“In here,” he directed, hushed and hurried.
The tall building blocked the moonlight, making it impossible to see much of anything. He’d saved her from the other men, but that didn’t mean he was safe. Few men were. Life had taught her that. “What about your horse?” she asked, trying to buy time to figure out an escape on her own this time.
“It wasn’t mine,” he answered. “I stole it.”
She dug her heels into the dirt. “Stole it?”
His strength was no match as he pulled her forward. “Don’t give up on me now, darling.”
“Don’t call me darling,” she said. “And let go of me.”
“Can’t. Alan Ridge isn’t going to be happy when he learns you knocked out his henchman. I may have gotten his other men off our tail for a bit, but eventually they’ll learn where we went. At least the general direction.” He threw open a door. “You can trust Lucky, darling. You’re safe with me.”
A chill rippled through Maddie. Mad Dog Rodriquez and Alan Ridge were the same man; she’d discovered that in the first town she’d hightailed out of in the dead of the night. Smitty had heard Mad Dog was in Mexico, and that was why he’d sent her to California: to escape the outlaw for good. That plan had backfired and she’d been doing little more than avoiding capture since stepping off the train. Mad Dog had a penchant for stealing girls and selling them at high bounties, but that wasn’t the only reason he was pursing her.
“You know Alan Ridge?” she asked.
“I know of him.”
She didn’t like it, not one little bit, but Lucky, as he called himself, seemed her only alternative at this moment. Given her choices, Maddie followed him, vowing to escape the first chance she got.
He closed the door behind them and let go of her arm but took her hand as he spun around. It was even darker inside, completely black. “Hold on to my belt. I’ll never find you in here if we get separated.”
Maddie was contemplating that when he whispered again. “But Ridge’s men will. Have no doubt about that, darling. When that one comes to, he’s going to be looking harder than ever.”
“Are you one of Ridge’s men?” she asked point-blank, though not really sure what she’d do if he said yes.
“Aw, darling,” he drawled. “Would I be trying to save you if I was in cahoots with him?”
Men were a fickle bunch, and not a one of them was above lying, yet her instincts, which she hoped weren’t trying to fool her, said she could trust this man. However, her ire was still riding high. “Will you stop calling me that,” she hissed, while wrapping her fingers beneath his belt. Men who’d ridden with her father always called her darling. She’d hated it then, and hated it now. Along with everything else about her past.
Lucky started walking forward slowly, as if feeling his way. “I will if you tell me your name.”
“Maddie. Madeline Elizabeth Stockwell,” she answered. It was a good name. This one she’d settled on. No one could trace it back to Bass. That wasn’t likely, considering he’d been calling himself Boots Smith when he died, but she wanted to sever all ties to her former life. California was supposed to have been a fresh start, but since arriving, she’d found herself running more than when living with outlaws.
“Well, ain’t that a mouthful?”
Stung, she retorted, “It’s better than Lucky.”
“Lucky’s just my nickname, darling. Real one’s Cole. Cole DuMont.”
“Who gave you a nickname like that?”
“I did.”
“You gave yourself a nickname?” She’d given herself a full name, but that had been a necessity; giving yourself a nickname was just plain silly. Maddie was her real name, as far as she knew. Madeline as well as Elizabeth and Stockwell were ones she’d chosen. They sounded distinguished. Proper. That was what she wanted. A real, proper and distinguished life. She’d have it, too. If she ever got away from Mad Dog and his henchmen.
“Sure enough did.” Lucky paused to open a door. “Figured if I called myself that often enough, it would stick. Luck, that is.”
She followed him outside. The air was cool and it had started to rain. Mist really, since it was more as though the water just hung in the air rather than falling to the ground.
“Has it worked?” she asked, curious.
