Читать книгу A Marriage Deal With The Outlaw - Harper George St. - Страница 9

Chapter One

The problem with having two identities was that someone would eventually figure them both out. Castillo’s grandfather had told him that with a frown when he’d learned that Castillo had started running cattle. It had been about five years ago, but it looked as if the prediction had finally come to pass.

Castillo Jameson, aka Reyes, leader of the notorious Reyes Brothers, lowered the brim of his hat to shadow his face. It was too late, though. The man at the other end of the train car had already recognized him as the leader of the gang of outlaws, wanted for crimes committed much further south than Montana Territory. Castillo could tell it from the stiff set of the man’s shoulders and the way the man’s left hand had shifted to the armrest, holding it in a white-knuckled grip. He tried to keep his attention focused on the scenery out the window, but his eyes twitched back toward Castillo in a nervous glance.

“Damn.” Castillo stretched his leg out a little farther and tapped the boot of his friend, Zane Pierce, who sat facing him. Zane glanced up from the drawing he’d been sketching, but once his dark eyes got a look at Castillo’s face he flipped his sketchbook shut and tucked it into the breast pocket of his coat. Visible holsters weren’t allowed on the train, but Castillo had a knife in his boot and a small-frame Smith & Wesson tucked into his coat. The problem would be confronting the man on a crowded train. Nearly every row was filled with people—many of them women and children—traveling west.

He waited for the man to pretend to look out the window again before nodding to Zane, who glanced over to set eyes on the man before leaning back in his seat. “Son of a bitch,” Zane said with a grin. “We’ve spent years hunting for Derringer. Never thought his son would show up when we weren’t looking.”

Castillo stared at the man from beneath the brim of his hat. He was too wary from years of getting close to his prey, only to face disappointment, to allow himself to hope now.

Zane’s words released the grip Castillo held on his control. His heart pounded like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest, and his fists clenched. Years of searching and they’d never been this close. Not once. His skin tightened like it was suddenly a size too small, but he forced himself to appear calm. “You sure that’s him?”

“Hell, yeah, I’m sure. That’s Bennett Derringer, Buck’s son. That little son of a bitch gave me this.” Zane raised his hand to indicate a pink scar that ran through his eyebrow and down his cheek, narrowly missing his eye. “I’ll never forget him.”

Castillo had met Buck Derringer and his family when the man had partnered with his grandfather. Before everything had gone to hell and Derringer had killed Castillo’s grandfather. Bennett, Derringer’s son, had been a teenager then. This man was young, maybe in his early twenties, with a full beard.

When Derringer had killed Castillo’s grandfather and run off with the money his grandfather had invested in their partnership, the Derringer family had disappeared, leading Castillo to think they’d changed their name. Castillo and his gang had heard tales of sightings, but those sightings had been from disreputable people and led to dead ends. The trail had long gone cold.

Castillo and the rest of the gang had taken a break from tracking him long enough to take Castillo’s younger brother, Miguel, to university back East. Miguel hadn’t wanted to go, but after they’d nearly lost him just a couple of months earlier, when he’d been kidnapped by Ship Campbell, one of the many enemies Castillo had made in his line of work as an outlaw, he’d seen no other choice. He didn’t want Miguel to follow in his footsteps, but what else had he expected? Castillo was the boy’s only living relative; it was inevitable that Miguel would idolize the gang.

What were the odds that they’d find their first solid clue to Derringer’s whereabouts on a train from Boston?

“He’s made us,” Castillo said, mentally tallying the number of people on the car. Too damn many.

“Doesn’t matter. He won’t do anything here. We just keep an eye on him and follow him when he gets off,” Zane said.

Castillo wasn’t so sure. The man looked twitchy. Castillo wasn’t close enough to tell, but he’d swear the way Bennett was tugging on his collar that a bead of sweat had broken out on his brow. Dammit, if only he’d seen Bennett first. They could’ve kept out of sight and followed him without him even knowing it.

“Mierda! He’s on the move.” Bennett had risen and turned to jiggle the door that led to the next car, on his way toward the back of the train.

“Where the hell is he going? It’s a damn train.” Zane asked, rising to his feet just after Castillo did.

Castillo shook his head, trying to keep his composure so no one in the car would be alerted. He nodded his head in greeting as they passed the curious gazes of the other passengers. This could get ugly real quick.

He reached the door Bennett had passed through, just in time to see him jiggling the handle of the door to the next car in the line. It was a passenger car, like the one they’d occupied, but the two after that were cars with private compartments. Things could get difficult if Bennett got far enough ahead to disappear into one of them. No way in hell did Castillo plan to let him hide, but they’d have a lot of explaining to do, knocking on all of those doors. It’d be best to catch him before he could disappear.

Damn, he was supposed to be Castillo Jameson on this trip. He and Zane were headed to the Jameson Ranch just outside Helena, far away from Texas where the Reyes Brothers were known. They weren’t the Reyes Brothers right now, but it looked like they didn’t have a choice. Trouble had come to them anyway.

* * *

Your father and I would see you married, Caroline. This year. Your place in this world is to be a wife and mother first, and a physician second.

I’ve not changed my position on furthering your medical education. With many reservations, I grant you permission, but only with the caveat that you’re wed. If your husband agrees to your education, then go with our blessing.

Your father and I have discussed this. The decision has been made. You are to come home after the wedding and meet the young man I have in mind for you.

With a little luck, we’ll begin to plan your own wedding.

Your loving mother

Caroline Hartford stared at the rumpled letter in her hand. She’d had it for days now, and every time she read the thing it managed to make her chest feel heavy and hollow at the same time. The message had come on the morning before they’d left her aunt’s home in Boston to begin their trip west, a special delivery by courier from her mother who was visiting New York City with friends. What had been a joyous morning of packing and anticipation had quickly soured, those happy feelings replaced with dread and bitter betrayal.

Betrayal. There. She’d finally thought it after all this time trying to name it something else. Her fingers clenched around the thick, creamy paper, but she stopped herself from crumpling it again. Placing the sheet on her knee, she painstakingly ran a finger over each of the creases to smooth them out again and then adjusted her spectacles on her nose.

It had become a ritual. Read it, become angry, crumple it, read it again, take a deep breath and smooth it out. All of that just to put it away and repeat the process when the urge became too overwhelming to resist.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. That thing again?” Her aunt snatched the paper away and stuffed it into her reticule before Caroline could stop her. “I’ve sat here and watched you look at that horrible communication for the better part of a week. Enough, already. You’ll deal with your mother later and that’s that.”

“But Aunt Prudie—” When the woman held up her hand and looked out the train’s window, Caroline realized she sounded like a petulant child and took a deep breath. “I feel betrayed,” she tried again. “Father was so excited when I was accepted into the program.” She could see him now, smiling at the dinner table and talking to whomever they’d happened to have over that evening about how she’d be among the first women accepted into the Boston University School of Medicine. He’d taught her everything she knew and was proud she’d be following in his footsteps. She’d trailed him around in his practice ever since she’d been tall enough to see over the tabletops.

“He’s still very excited.” Prudie turned and ran her fingers over a strand of Caroline’s hair that had fallen free of the pins. “But you know your mother. She’s never approved of your choice.”

It was true. Her mother had never understood the sense of fulfillment Caroline felt when she helped a patient. Caroline suspected that her mother didn’t care, because it wasn’t part of the plan she had for her only child. Perhaps if Caroline had had siblings things would be different, but she didn’t, so all her mother’s hopes of a society marriage rested on Caroline’s shoulders. “No, she hasn’t, and she’s never kept a secret of that. I suppose I thought he would make her see reason. Why didn’t he mention anything to me before the letter?”

“In a way, he has made her see reason,” Prudie said. “She’s not saying you can’t go. Merely that you need to have a husband. And I suspect your mother wanted to send you a letter so you’d have a little time to come to terms with it before seeing her later this week.”

Caroline leaned back against the plush seat and folded her arms over her chest. “It feels a lot like extortion. What husband is going to be happy to marry me and then lose me to medical school come autumn? He’ll be far more likely to forbid me to go. For that matter, I don’t even know of anyone I’d want to marry. I can’t even fathom the ‘young man’ she has in mind. So you see, this is all an attempt to keep me from going.”

Aunt Prudie clicked her tongue and ran her hand over Caroline’s shoulder. “We’ll figure out something. Remember, your father is very much on your side in this. In the meantime, let’s enjoy the trip as we’d planned. It’s your first time out West and you’re missing how beautiful it is. Just look at those mountains. Have you ever seen anything so green in your life?”

Caroline glanced back toward the window. The sun was just starting to set, painting the mountains in the distance with a burnished glow, setting off the deep green of the shadows. “I’m sorry I’m being so gloomy.” Aunt Prudie was right. There was no reason to allow her troubles at home to interfere with their adventure.

“Don’t be sorry, child. No one wants a marriage forced on them.” The haunted look in her eye made Caroline think that Prudie knew better than most. Her aunt’s marriage hadn’t been the happiest. “I make you this promise right now. You’ll go to medical school come September. I’ll see to it myself.”

Caroline smiled and gave the woman a hug. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you for putting up with me.”

“Yes, you’re a terrible burden,” Aunt Prudie teased. “Now, go to the dining car and fetch me another scone before they put them away for the night. Fetch your father back, too. He’s probably fallen asleep over the newspaper again.”

Laughing, Caroline rose and paused at the door of their private compartment to look back at her aunt. When her mother hadn’t understood her ambitions, her father’s sister had. People said that she favored the woman more than her own mother. They both possessed the same blonde hair and blue eyes that ran in her father’s side of the family. Aunt Prudie was like her second mother. This trip out West for a family wedding was supposed to be their last holiday together before Caroline went to school and then—hopefully—began taking on more patients in her father’s practice or possibly even the hospital. She’d be foolish to allow a letter to ruin it.

She unlatched the door and made sure it clicked shut behind her before making her way down the dimly lit hallway to the next car. Her low heels barely made a sound on the dark red carpet. The dining car was four cars ahead, but she didn’t mind the walk after being cooped up in that compartment all afternoon. The sway of the train was making her tired, and she stifled a yawn as she jiggled the handle of the stubborn door that led to the next car.

The door flew open unexpectedly, pushing her backward into the paneled wall and knocking her off balance. A bearded man with a crazed look in his eye nearly ran her over in his haste to come inside. She tried to jump back out of his way, but he grabbed her. Before she realized his intention, he’d covered her mouth with his large hand and was pulling her awkwardly with him on his way down the hallway. She clawed at his arm and kicked her feet out, trying to find some purchase on the floor or wall, but he was abnormally strong, or at least, that’s how it felt. She’d never actually been manhandled before.

The man kept looking back over his shoulder, and finally she looked that way, too. Two men had just made their way through the door.

“Hell,” the bigger one said when he saw her.

“Let her go, Bennett,” the calmer one spoke. “This is between us.” His hat was pulled too low for her to see his face, but he spoke with an accent, the vowels elongated a bit.

The man—Bennett, apparently—didn’t slow down at all. He tightened his hand when she tried to scream and pulled her flush against his chest. Something cold jammed against her neck, but for the life of her she couldn’t tell if it was a knife or a gun. She held her breath, so she wouldn’t move and find out. Her entire body had gone cold, like she’d stepped outside in December without her coat, and she realized it was best not to scream so she wouldn’t draw Aunt Prudie from her compartment. She glanced to the door of her aunt’s compartment, willing the woman to stay inside.

Please don’t let Aunt Prudie open the door. The plea repeated itself in her mind as he kept walking backward, pulling her along with him. The two men kept walking toward them very slowly. For all she knew they were bad men, too, but right now they were the only potential saviors she had.

Before she realized what had happened, Bennett twisted her around so that she was pressed flush against the door leading to the caboose. “Open the damn door.” He spoke the words rough, yet low, against her hair, and she heard the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked. She glanced over to see the glint of metal in the lamplight as he trained the gun on the men. “Do it!” he said in an even rougher voice.

Caroline was too terrified to do anything other than what he ordered and struggle to keep a hold on the handle. Between her sweating palms, the swaying of the train and the slightly rusted metal, she had a difficult time getting the handle to turn. When she finally did, she pushed the door open only to feel the cool, outside air rushing past her. There was no railing, nothing to keep her inside, and dizziness overcame her as the ground rushed past. Bennett grabbed her tight, and he switched their positions so that she was once again between him and the two men chasing him.

“Stay away from me, Reyes, or I’ll shoot her. Just try me if you don’t believe me.”

The calm man in front held up his hands as a sign of peace. The big man behind him didn’t budge, he just stared at them with his dark eyes and twitching jaw. Now that a bit of the late afternoon sunlight was filtering into the hallway through the open door, she could see the lower half of Reyes’s face. He had a strong, clean-shaven jaw, and his skin was dark, more olive than tan.

“You won’t shoot her,” Reyes said, his deep voice still calm in the face of the madman. “There’s no need for her death.”

“Her life’s in your hands.” Bennett tightened his grip on her and started moving them backward onto the platform. She had no idea what he intended but she didn’t intend to die today, and she didn’t intend to make any of this easy for him. She refused to stay still and suffer whatever he planned, so she twisted and tried to loosen his hold, her hands grasping at the wood-paneled wall so that he couldn’t pull her out the door with him.

“We only want your father. Tell us where he is and you’re free to go.”

Bennett’s laughter vibrated through her chest, they were so close. “Tell that to your friend with the scar. I bet he’d like to get back at me for that.”

The big man didn’t respond except to clench his jaw even tighter and square his shoulders. The light moved over his face and she noticed the scar. It looked as if something had sliced clean through his skin, narrowly missing his eye, and the wound hadn’t been stitched shut properly. The scar was too broad and jagged to have healed neatly.

Before Reyes could respond, the brakes on the train screeched as it began the long process of slowing down. They were due to make one more stop, though she couldn’t remember the name of the town, before pulling into Helena in the morning. Bennett planted his feet, jerking them back against the change in momentum that pulled them forward and causing them to sway dangerously toward the open door.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of movement. Reyes or the big man moved forward, but Bennett saw it, too. She had no time to react before he was pushing her toward them. Reyes reached out and caught her before she could stumble to the ground. One arm held her tight against his chest, while the other braced against the wall, his legs planted wide to take the brunt of the impact.

She grabbed onto his broad shoulders as if her life depended on it and squeezed her eyes shut, expecting gunfire to erupt. But it didn’t. Her savior’s arm held her tight against his chest, and the pounding of his heart was the only sound that registered. The big one pushed her even further against Reyes as he rushed past them to try to catch Bennett. Though she didn’t know where the man had disappeared to. The door was open but she couldn’t see him.

Her skin prickled hot and then cold as blood whooshed in her ears. She could’ve been killed. That wild-eyed man could’ve put a bullet through her body just as easily as he’d tossed her away. Or, just as horrifying, he could have flung her out the open door of the train, leaving her crumpled and broken on the ground or pulled beneath the wheels. The awareness of how easily things could have gone differently left her shaking, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her.

She pressed her face against Reyes’s coat and took in a deep, calming breath. Oh. He smelled good. She took another breath to get more of his scent. It was clean and masculine with a hint of bay rum. His big hand moved up and down her back in a soothing caress. She let out a long, slow breath, savoring the calming motion.

Nothing horrible was happening. Pushing back a little, she stared into a pair of the most gorgeous eyes she’d ever seen. They were a vivid green, but lit with gold around the pupils and rimmed with dark lashes.

“Are you hurt?” His deep voice rumbled through her, softened with that hint of an accent she’d noticed earlier. Despite what had happened, he was still calm and unhurried, as if her well-being meant more to him than chasing down that madman.

Was she hurt? She did a mental inventory and everything seemed to be in order. “No, I’m not hurt.”

“The bastard jumped.” The big one had been standing there, staring out the open door, but he paced back toward them. He ran a hand through his dark mass of unruly, shoulder-length hair and looked as if he’d just barely stopped himself from punching the wall. “Unbelievable.”

The train was slowing, but it was still going too fast for any sane person to risk jumping. She didn’t want to believe it, but where else could he have gone?

“We’ll find him,” Reyes said, again the voice of reason. “He didn’t fall into our laps for us to lose him. If he jumped, then he’s hurt and we can track him this far from town.” The big one nodded and headed back to the open door to secure it, casting a last longing glance outside before he did.

Now that her heartbeat had slowed a little, Caroline realized that her palms had flattened themselves against the hard chest of the man holding her. His strong hands had moved to grip her waist as he held her steady. As strange as it seemed, she felt safe and reassured in his arms. He wouldn’t let any harm come to her. She was aware that she should move away, yet her body refused to give him up. It craved the closeness he offered. She’d never quite had such a visceral reaction to a man before. And she’d never been held so closely against one. He was hard everywhere, as though his muscles were carved from granite. His fingers flexed into her, and instinctively hers did the same, giving the muscles beneath her fingers a gentle squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low and a little husky. The r sound rolled off his tongue.

Something powerful moved between them, so unexpected that she couldn’t even name it. It was almost like familiarity and excitement rolled into one, but that couldn’t be. She’d never met him.

“It’s not your fault. I stepped out at the wrong time.” She offered a smile, and he did, too. It was a quick flash of white in the dim light of the hallway, but it was beautiful. His mouth curved up in a flawless crescent that centered her gaze on his perfectly formed lips, the bottom one just a bit fuller than the top one.

She’d just had a brush with death and here she was standing with a stranger and flirting. It must be the shock. Her father had taught her that people sometimes exhibited strange behavior after experiencing a trauma. That was the only explanation for her conduct.

A shadow loomed over them, drawing her attention to the big man. He didn’t seem pleased with the moment they were sharing and raised a brow at her with some sort of implied censure. Then he handed her a pair of folded spectacles, their gold rims glinting in the lamplight, and the action was enough to jolt her back to reality. She hadn’t even realized they’d fallen off in the commotion. She accepted them and stepped back. The man called Reyes dropped his hands from her waist. He didn’t appear as chastened as she felt, though. What was she thinking, standing here with a possible criminal and smiling? She’d come within an inch of getting killed.

He hadn’t looked away from her, either. Even as he spoke, he kept his gaze on her. “Go arrange for our luggage. We’ll be the first off at the station.”

The big man said something in agreement—she could hardly pay attention to him—before he moved between them and made his way through the door to the next train car. Then they were alone and the air thickened with awareness. It sizzled down her spine and feathered out along her nerve endings until her entire body was alive with it.

She’d been kissed before, once or twice at the annual fund-raiser galas her family participated in, but they’d been flirty and hasty, nothing bordering even remotely on the intensity gaining momentum between her and this stranger. Except he hadn’t kissed her. Not in the way she wanted. Dear God, she wanted this stranger to kiss her. What the devil was wrong with her?

Still keeping a firm hold on her gaze, he caught her fingers in his and raised them. His hands were broad and slightly calloused and his skin was dark against her pale fingers. His lips brushed the back of her hand in a featherlight caress, not even leaving a hint of moisture behind. “Safe travels, mi corazόn.”

He dropped her hand and followed his friend. She opened her mouth to call to him, but then stopped when she realized there was nothing to say. Would she ask him to call on her in Boston? Give him—a stranger who’d been chasing an obvious criminal—her name?

There was nothing to do but watch him go. When he’d disappeared through the door, she walked to the door of the compartment she shared with her aunt and paused. She took some breaths and waited for her fingers to stop shaking before she went inside, forgetting all about the scones and her father in the dining car.