Mustang Annie Page 12

  The stricken, almost fearful look on his face told her that her guess had been on the mark. Looking closer, she wondered that no one had realized their kinship before. If they had, they certainly hadn’t said anything.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” He shook his head. Curls a shade lighter than Corrigan’s hair flopped against his collar. “What does it matter? He wouldn’t care if he did know.”

  He had a point. Men fathered illegitimate children all the time and gave them no more regard than a slice of moldy bread.

  Annie had a hard time believing Corrigan would turn the boy away if he did know; the man was fiercely possessive about what belonged to him. But neither could she guarantee his feelings toward Dogie would soften—especially after his remark about preferring daughters.

  “Besides, I don’t even know for sure if he is,” Dogie added. “I only know what my mother told me.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “That he came along when she needed him most. That he was big and strong and brave, and that someday I was gonna grow up to be just like him.”

  A twinge of regret struck Annie at the thought of Dogie growing as tall and broad as Corrigan. She’d like to see that—the two of them standing eye to eye and will to will would be quite a sight. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be around to see him reach manhood. As soon as she caught Corrigan’s horses and collected her fee, she’d be losing herself in Mexico. What she’d do after that, she hadn’t yet figured out. She’d learned a long time ago just to get through one day at a time.

  “You ain’t gonna tell him, are you?” Dogie asked apprehensively.

  “That isn’t my place.” Suddenly aware of how high the sun sat above the horizon, Annie snapped to a sit. “We best get back before we’re missed.”

  Just as they finished dressing, Dogie called out to her again. “Annie?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Would you wait for me?”

  “Wait for you?” Hell, he’d better hurry up!

  “To grow up—so I can marry you.”

  Annie’s heart squeezed, and her eyes went misty. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” She clasped Dogie’s hand in her own. “Someday, a girl’s going to give her heart to you, and when she does, you take extra special care of it—because they’re real fragile.”

  As they headed back, both tried coming up with good excuses to feed Corrigan for their absence. It was too late in the season for berry picking and too early for nut gathering, but the ideas grew more outrageous, and by the time they reached the cave, their stomachs hurt from laughing so hard.

  Their laughter died abruptly at the sound of Corrigan on the rampage.

  “Wade Henry! Where’d you pack the shells for the rifle?”

  “Uh, I reckon I musta forgot to bring ’em.”

  “You forgot? How in the devil do you expect me to use a shotgun without any shot?”

  Annie and Dogie shared an apprehensive look. Maybe she should have taken Dogie more seriously when he said Corrigan would kill them.

  At that moment, he emerged from the cave and spotted them. The tightness of his jaw and the cold glitter in his eyes left no doubt that he was mad as thunder. “Where the hell have you been?” he asked in a deceptively quiet voice.

  Dogie’s backward step took him behind Annie. “N-n-no place.”

  She tilted her chin with phony bravado. “We went for a swim.”

  “You went for a swim,” Brett repeated. A red fog of rage crept inside him, infusing his bloodstream, clouding his vision. When he’d returned from watch and found them gone, the only thing he could think of was that someone—bounty hunters, renegades, Annie’s husband—had stolen into the cave during the night and taken off with them.

  Fear unlike anything he’d ever felt before consumed him. He’d torn the area apart, had sent Emilio out searching, had driven Fortune almost into the ground in his own attempt to find them . . . and they’d gone for a goddamn swim.

  He didn’t know what had him more furious—that he’d been so worried for nothing or that Annie looked happier, healthier, and more beautiful than he’d ever seen her before. Her damp hair lay thick and unraveled down her back, her eyes glistened, her cheeks bloomed.

  In a voice that belied the strength of his rage, he told Dogie, “Pack up your gear. You’re going back to Sage Flat until I can find someone to take you back to the ranch.”

  Dogie’s mouth fell. “What?”

  “I warned you what would happen if you pulled another stunt. You’ve got ten minutes to collect your things or they’ll be left behind.”

  “Corrigan, don’t be ridic—”

  He jabbed his finger in Annie’s direction. “You keep out of this.”

  “The hell I will! What did he do that was so criminal this time?”

  “He disobeyed a direct order.”

  “What, he didn’t kiss your ass long enough?”

  The red haze before his eyes distorted her un yielding expression. “You . . . are treading into dangerous territory here, Annie.”

  “So are you, Corrigan,” she retorted, her eyes going as flat as her tone. “For the last two days you’ve done nothing but bark and bite at anyone who comes within ten feet of you, and frankly, I’m surprised the whole lot hasn’t committed mutiny.”

  She was right, damn it. He’d been in a foul mood even before they’d left Sage Flat and his men were bearing the brunt of it. They weren’t to blame for his building frustration over Annie and his irrational obsession of her.

  At the same time, he couldn’t let Dogie get away with thinking he could leave the protection of camp whenever the mood struck, nor could he let Annie think she had the power to counter his authority. “Dogie knows better than to leave the outfit and he did so anyway—and he took you with him. Now he can pay the consequences.”

  “I dragged him along! If you want to be angry at someone, be angry at me.”

  “Believe me, anger doesn’t come close to how I feel toward you right now.” More like enraged. Infuriated. And so goddamned relieved it was a wonder his knees didn’t buckle.

  “And you and I both know it has nothing to do with Dogie.” Her chest heaved, her eyes sparked. “Cuss ten ways to Sunday if you want, but the boy isn’t going anywhere.”

  Brett didn’t know whether to kill her or keep her. One thing was certain—Annie had more pluck than any woman he’d ever met in his life. “Give me one good reason I should let him stay.”

  “If he goes, I go.”

  Somehow, he knew she’d hand him that ultimatum.

  Brett swung away, only to discover the rest of his men watching the scene. Hell. Breathing deeply through his nostrils, he sifted through his choices: he could send the boy home and fire Annie for her insolence; or he could send the boy home and watch Annie leave with him. Either way, he’d keep his pride and his men’s respect, but he’d lose both Annie and his only hope of getting his horses back on time.

  There was a third option, but it meant swallowing his pride and risking his authority: let the boy stay, keep Annie, and hope like hell one of them didn’t end up dead.

  As much as it galled him to admit it, Annie and the horses were worth more to him than his pride or his men’s respect. “Are you going to take responsibility for him?”

  “If I must. But he’s a big boy; he can take responsibility for himself.”

  “Fine. He can stay. But if he pulls one more stunt, it’s back to the ranch he goes.”

  “Why do y’all put up with him?” Annie asked Henry as she watched Corrigan storm toward the remuda. “I can see why Dogie might, in a twisted way, but why do you?”

  “Ace? He ain’t such a bad sort.”

  “He treats you like dung. Surely there are other men you could work for who would appreciate your experience.”

  “And leave my horses?” Henry shook his head. “Been with ’em too long to walk out on ’em now. ’Sides, Ace pays better wages than any feller in the territory, and he don’t ’spect
nothin’ from his men that he don’t do himself. Cain’t ask for more’n that.”

  “A bit of respect.”

  “When a feller respects himself, he don’t need it from anyone else.”

  “So you’re just gonna stick it out with him and let him order you around like some lackey?”

  “He needs me, Annie. I know it don’t always seem like it, but you don’t know him like I do. Not many folks got much use for a crippled old cowpoke, but he keeps me busy, even when there ain’t nothing to keep busy with.”

  “Why are you making excuses for him?”

  Henry set a branch atop the pile he’d accumulated. “I reckon you’d see it that way, but underneath all the bluster, he’s a decent man. You’ll learn that for yourself if you give him a chance.”

  “He doesn’t deserve your loyalty, Wade Henry.”

  “Maybe not, Annie Harper, but he’s got it anyway.”

  Annie watched the old man hobble away. He could barely walk, much less ride anymore, yet Corrigan did keep him busy: cooking, wrangling, directing . . . she had thought his men resented the tasks he imposed on them; it hadn’t occurred to her that they might appreciate them.

  Her gaze veered toward the string of horses where Corrigan stood beside his gray, jamming a rifle into the saddle scabbard. Could she be judging him too harshly? Was it possible that she simply searched for things to hate about him, because she couldn’t bear the alternative?

  He needs me.

  And she realized then, that all the Triple Ace men were misfits, each in their own way, not fitting into the everyday world. Flap Jack with his giant body and tender heart, Dogie with his reckless and sometimes dangerous energy, Emilio’s seclusion into a world and language only Corrigan could understand, and Henry with a gnarled body unable to keep up with his quick mind.

  The Triple Ace was a gathering place of lost hopes and last chances, and Corrigan a gambler willing to take a risk on them.

  Annie couldn’t decide what alarmed her more: the urge to run—or the ache to belong.

  Chapter 13

  Corrigan didn’t return to camp for several hours, and when he did, Annie almost wished he’d stayed away. His mellow disposition might fool the rest of his men, but it didn’t fool her. Beneath the calm a storm still raged, compelling her to keep her peace and her distance. Corrigan might not rattle Henry and Emilio, but he rattled her. He seemed to bring out emotions in her that she’d forgotten even existed: an almost reckless defiance, a compulsion to prove herself indestructible, a need to belong . . .

  That realization shook her the most, for she’d been on her own for a long time now, by her own choice.

  They headed out after a meal of roasted rabbit and spent the rest of the day following one of the many narrow trails carved into the canyon walls. Since Henry had spent as much—if not more—time as she in the canyon of the hard wood, he’d been elected to lead their party down the slanting path. Dogie followed, then Emilio, with Annie and Brett bringing up the rear. She much preferred that Emilio follow her, for then she wouldn’t have to endure the searing gaze burning holes into the back of her head.

  Annie grit her teeth and squirmed in the saddle and hoped they found the horses soon. She didn’t know how much longer she could tolerate living in this state of raw nerves.

  A sudden shift of gravel and slide of hooves yanked her attention back to the trail. “Easy, girl,” she soothed, bringing Chance onto firmer footing.

  A few minutes later, she noticed a hitch in the mare’s gait. Annie pulled her to a stop and swung out of the saddle, heeding the drop-off to her left.

  “Damn it,” Annie cursed under her breath at the stone lodged in Chance’s hoof. After flicking away the nugget with the blade of her pocketknife, Annie released the hoof, brushed her hands off and scanned their surroundings grimly. Heat shimmered off the glittering sandstone sheets imbedded between layers of clay and limestone. The men had probably reached the bottom of the trail by now, and with them, Dogie with the extra horses. Heck of a place to wind up on foot. Her only other option—

  “Care for a ride?”

  —didn’t bear consideration. “No, thanks.” She wound the reins around her wrist and tugged. Chance balked for a second before obediently following Annie along the narrow path, favoring her tender front leg.

  “Don’t be stubborn, Annie. Fortune is perfectly capable of carrying two.”

  “In this heat, he doesn’t need the extra weight.”

  “Fine. If you walk, I walk.”

  She watched him dismount and gather the gray’s reins in one gloved hand. “Don’t humor me, Corrigan.”

  “Humor you? If I ride and you walk, I’m being callous. If I ride with you, I’m a lecher. If I walk beside you, I’m humoring you. Hell, I can’t win.”

  “It took you long enough to figure it out. Now that you have, you might as well just throw your cards on the table.”

  Annie regretted the flippant remark as soon as she saw the uncompromising glitter in Corrigan’s eyes.

  “As you wish.”

  Two solid strides brought him around Chance’s front. A single swift motion had Annie caught up against him. His mouth swooped down, capturing her surprised gasp.

  Annie went stiff in his arms, too stunned to react. Her mind shut down, her nerves strung tight. A voice at the back of her mind chided her for gambling with a gambler.

  Then, sensations awakened. His lips warm as wine on hers; his arms solid and secure around her back; his scent, hot and potent in her nostrils.

  Giddy pleasure made her head swim and her limbs turn to liquid. She felt herself weaken. She parted her lips, and her knees folded when his tongue swept across hers. Her arms slid up his sides to clutch the muscles of his back. He groaned against her mouth.

  The kiss was demanding yet gentle, ravenous yet savoring.

  This was what she’d been aching for since she’d begun this journey: his strength, his heat, his passion. She’d been weak and cold and lifeless for so long. . . .

  She couldn’t hold back a cry of regret when his mouth left hers. Regret turned to bliss when he dropped kisses on her cheek, her chin, on the sensitive flesh beneath her jaw. She arched her neck, giving him clearer access.

  Long-denied need rose, overwhelming her with its power. Wanting him closer, she tangled her fingers in his soft hair, lifted his head, and sought his mouth. Hungry lips closed over hers in a torrid kiss that drove away all but an awareness of the man pressing tight against her, chest against breasts, midriff to belly, loins against womb.

  Brett drew back and set her on her feet, his breaths rapid and heavy against her cheek. “There. My cards are on the table—now there’s no guessing my hand.”

  For long moments she could only stare dumbly at him, her lips burning, her body aching. A hawk screeched over the treetops; the rushing waters of the nearby creek lapped against sunbeams playing on its surface; a squirrel spiraled up the trunk of a hickory tree. Though Annie was dimly cognizant of her surroundings, the moment seemed to narrow down to her and Corrigan and a powerful desire that kept her trapped to the spot.

  As they stared at one another, the air took a subtle shift, becoming charged with an invisible promise that penetrated clear to the bone.

  “I could ride you like you’ve never been ridden before.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  “I know what they want and I know how to give it.”

  Images tangled themselves in her mind, a confusing swirl of resentment and desire, of strength and weakness, of pain and pleasure. And above it all, a fearful realization.

  If he hadn’t set her away, she’d have demanded he take her right there in the dirt as if she were a two-bit whore.

  She doubled up her fist and let it fly, giving him a full-knuckled whollop to the jaw that would have knocked a lesser man out of his britches.

  Brett only winced, and pressed two fingers to the corner of his mouth. “What’s the matter, Annie—stakes too high?�
��

  Annie spun on her heel, grabbed Chance’s reins, and marched the rest of the way down the trail. She hoped he never realized just how high.

  The night’s campsite was set beneath a flattopped plateau, surrounded by huckleberry trees and grape vines.

  Annie was as tightly silent now as she’d been since he’d kissed her and Brett wondered if he’d taken this game too far.

  Yes, Annie had a way of provoking him beyond control. Yes, he’d wanted to see her feel something besides that damned indifference. But not that way.

  Just thinking about the way he’d behaved caused him shame. Annie was married. No matter how many times he told himself that if her husband wanted her, he’d be with her now, it didn’t change the fact that she was off limits.

  Long after everyone else had fallen asleep, Brett lay awake, watching the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders. Even the snores of his men couldn’t drown out the soft sound of her breathing, and her sweet fragrance rose above those of horse and sweat and earth to taunt him.

  “You awake, Annie?”

  “No.”

  He flinched at the sharp reply. “I don’t suppose it would do any good if I told you I was sorry.”

  “Not as sorry as you will be if you ever do something like that again.”

  “I give you my word. I won’t ever touch you unless I’m invited.”

  “That’ll be a cold day in hell.”

  All right, so maybe the kiss hadn’t been his usual passionate, provocative effort. When he’d kissed Annie, he’d . . . well, he’d just . . . felt. She’d felt something, too—he knew she had.

  Hadn’t she?

  Suddenly, he felt twenty again. Unsure, inexperienced, too damn eager. The question slipped out before he could stop it. “Was it so loathsome, Annie?”

  Before he could coax an answer from her, the pounding of hooves and a jubilant cry shattered the night.

  “Horses!”

  Brett sprang up from the bedroll, his pistol ready, just as Flap Jack charged into camp. He pulled on the reins, bringing his lathered horse to a skidding halt.

  Gasping for breath he announced, “Herd spotted . . . six miles south . . . small stream off the Prairie Dog Town Fork.”