Promises Linger (Promise Series) Read online

  She had no intention of losing ever again.

  When her face muscles felt rigid from the effort to appear unconcerned, she pushed conviction into her voice. “If you set one foot on Rocking C land, you’ll get a bullet between your eyes.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  The confidence in his voice started a quiver of uncertainty deep inside. She took a breath and immediately regretted it. The smoke that had collected in the musty interior burned her lungs. She suppressed a cough and regrouped. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t show weakness. She would, however, tighten her grip on the gun and finish what she’d started; undoing the mistake of the day before. “Stay off my land, Brent.”

  She wrapped each word in precise enunciation for maximum effect. She might as well have saved her breath. Not by a flicker of an eyelash did Brent let on she’d so much as scratched his arrogance. Instead, he wiped a fresh trickle of blood from his lip with the back of his hand. His teeth bared in a savage, confident smile. “You won’t shoot me, Elly.”

  Why did men continually believe that because she was female, she was as inconsequential as dandelion fluff?

  “You’re wrong,” she informed him. She was close, so damned close to pulling the trigger that her fingers ached with the effort not to squeeze. She hated him for turning her wedding night from anticipation to terror. She hated him for being weak when she needed someone strong, but mostly she hated him for betraying her faith in her own judgment.

  “If you kill me, Elly,” he went on, dabbing at the blood on his shirt, “then you’re back where you started, the ranch going to hell, the bank note coming due, and no husband to turn the situation around.”

  God! Had she really thought this man’s clothes and speech had put him a step up on the local men? “I imagine I’ll find a way.”

  “Not in time, you won’t,” Brent inserted the taunt smoothly into the conversation. “Coyote Bill loved that ranch more than life itself.” The glance he shot her was calculating. “What would he think of a daughter who, in an attack of bridal jitters, lost the Rocking C?”

  “I have no intention of losing anything,” she responded calmly. Of that, she was certain. She wouldn’t lose the ranch. She may not have been the boy her father had wanted, but she’d shed blood for that land. Worked it as hard as any man before Coyote Bill had discovered she’d had other uses as a woman. The Rocking C was hers. As much a part of her as her mother’s intelligence and her father’s determination. She would surrender it to no one. Least of all a wastrel like Brent. The weight of the gun made her arms ache. She raised the muzzle so it was back on target. “I have absolutely no intention of losing, period.”

  “If you continue with this lunacy, you will,” Brent’s calm equaled her own. “As your husband, I can sell it anytime I want.” His voice lowered, became harsh. “Just like I can take you across that street anytime I want and teach you a woman’s place.”

  Despite her efforts, a spark of fear slipped through her guard. Elizabeth ignored the rumblings of the other men in the bar. Her gaze focused on the widest spot between Brent’s eyebrows. If he made one move in her direction, he was dead. “Are you through?”

  “No. While you may want to forget our marriage took place yesterday, the law isn’t so flexible.” The smile he spread around the room was an open invitation for the other males to commiserate with his position.

  She didn’t have enough bullets in her gun to shoot the men who met Brent’s smile with an understanding one of their own. Deep inside, the shuddering started. Oh God! What if they all turned on her? She searched the room with her eyes, looking for a friendly face. Her gaze collided with a dark set of eyes in the corner. The big man sat, his back braced against the wall. Despite the laziness of his posture, there was something in the set of his shoulders that told her he was as intent on the conversation as everyone else. His gaze was steady, unnerving, but somehow soothing, as if inviting her trust. She wasn’t stupid enough to believe in the invitation, but if all hell broke loose, she hoped he’d be in the small contingent on her side.

  “We are married, Elly,” Brent pronounced, turning back to her, his position obviously bolstered by the silent communion with the other patrons. “The Rocking C is mine.”

  “If that were the case,” Elizabeth countered calmly, allowing no uncertainty into her voice, “I’d not be wasting a perfectly good bullet by letting it sit in this gun.”

  She might be losing her mind, but she swore the big man with the dark eyes just gave her the thumbs up as he tipped his hat back. Even with the dim light, there was no mistaking the handsomeness of his face or the self-confidence in his expression. Since she had a need, she took some of his self confidence as her own. As a result, her voice, when she continued, betrayed nothing but strength. “Lucky for you, our marriage wasn’t legal.”

  “The hell it wasn’t! Reverend!”

  Elizabeth followed the trajectory of Brent’s gaze to the far corner of the saloon. A crow of a man garbed in black sat slumped over a table. When Brent bellowed again, the form shifted, moaned, and then raised its head.

  “Wh-what?”

  “Reverend? Was the wedding you performed yesterday legal?”

  “It’s as legal as the parties involved want it to be,” the haggard man muttered before leaning to the side of the table and retching violently.

  Beyond a flinching of her right eyelid, Elizabeth didn’t let on that the sound or sight bothered her.

  “Let me clarify things for you, Brent,” she offered in that same controlled tone she’d used since walking through the swinging doors. “Because the circuit priest comes through here so rarely, the territory has been recognizing weddings performed by Reverend Pete under common law. As long as both parties are satisfied with the union, there’s no problem.” Her shoulder lifted on a shrug. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not satisfied.”

  Brent wiped at his eyes, stared at the blood on his pants, and looked down the barrel of the revolver. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he finally burst out.

  “I’m saving my ranch from the hands of a wastrel.”

  “You’re saving your ranch!” He dropped his head back against the wall and laughed. “That’s a hoot! The reason it was so easy to pull the wool over your eyes in the first place was because you were in such a big hurry to get married.” He stopped laughing long enough to drive his point home. “Or did you forget the way the men won’t take orders from a woman? Or the way the bank won’t extend credit to a woman? Or the way rustlers have been swooping down on your precious ranch for the last three months ever since word got out that Coyote Bill’s dead?”

  “I haven’t forgotten a thing.”

  “Then you know you need me.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, you do. You need me to run your ranch, just as I need your ranch to fund my amusements.”

  “What I need is a man, Brent Doyle, and I’m afraid that requirement leaves you out in the cold.”

  “She needs a man in more ways than one,” someone interjected from the sidelines.

  Elizabeth bit back the retort that sprang to her lips and let the room’s inhabitants amuse themselves with speculation. She had bigger fish to fry. She searched the room for her friend. When she spotted Old Sam at the bar, she gave him the signal. Before she finished the subtle nod, he was nodding back and rising from his chair. She shifted her grip on the revolver, took a breath and started praying as she followed his progress from the corner of her eye while keeping her gun aimed on Brent. As she suspected, he headed for the table to her right. The closer he got to the stranger with the dark eyes and easy confidence, the harder she prayed. Anyone with a chin that stubborn wouldn’t be easy to sway. And she so needed him to lean her way.

  A tap on his shoulder took Asa’s attention away from his whiskey and the show. The first thing he noticed when he turned was the hat. Battered, ragged and sweat-stained, it had definitely seen better days. The face peering from under the Stetson wasn’t in
much better shape. It was tanned the same mud brown as the crown and sported more creases than a ten-year-old letter from home. The gleam in the old codger’s faded blue eyes was speculative, making Asa wonder if the man knew of his reputation.

  “I’m thinking it’d take a hell of a man to tame a pretty little mustang like that,” the old codger whispered, one lid dropping over his eye in a slow wink.

  “At the very least, a brave one,” Asa said by way of response. He took another pull on his whiskey, unable to keep his eyes off the woman. Damn. She was a firecracker under all that tight-ass exterior.

  “Elly always did have a bit of a temper.”

  Asa shot the older man an amused glance. “A temper is throwing dishes at your husband when he walks though the door. This, this is…” He shook his head. “Hell, I don’t know what this is.”

  “I imagine,” the older man chuckled, “Elly has thrown a dish or two in her day.” He swiped the top of his whiskey glass with a filthy sleeve, tossed back the contents, and wiped his bearded mouth with the back of his hand. “It isn’t Elly’s fault she doesn’t let her sweet side show. Coyote Bill brought her up rough.”

  Rough wouldn’t be the word Asa would use. Intriguing was more the way he saw her. Strong. A man could go far with a woman like that by his side. “She’s something else.”

  “She’s as straight as they come.”

  “Her husband’s a fool.”

  “I won’t argue the fool part, but he ain’t her husband.”

  Asa slid his foot aside as the man punctuated his statement by spitting to the side. With his glass, he indicated Elizabeth. “Is she kin to you ?” he asked.

  The old man looked shocked and then amused. “Nah, but it’s not like I’d be ashamed to find out different.” He looked at the last two swallows in the bottle before Asa. “Mind?”

  “Go ahead.” The old man didn’t bother with the glass he’d set on the table. He finished the bottle in one swig, and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt before clarifying, “I worked for her Daddy for most of her life.”

  “And you’re loyal to her.” Asa didn’t pose it as a question.

  “Enough so that I’m giving you the go ahead.”

  He said it like Asa should feel honored. “I appreciate it.”

  Or at least he would if he had any idea what the man was talking about.

  The old man glanced over his shoulder at Elizabeth, gave a nod of his head and then turned back to Asa.

  “I thank you for the drink.”

  There was something likable about the guy, so Asa nodded and said, “I appreciated the company.”

  The old man’s face crinkled into a smile revealing worn yellowed teeth. “I’m sure you will before long.”

  Damn. Was everyone in this town squirrelly, Asa wondered, shaking his head as the old man, chuckling at the joke only he understood, disappeared back into the crowd around Elizabeth. Brent’s voice rose over the low murmur of bets being placed, drawing Asa’s attention back to the marital drama unfolding. Dismissing the old man from his mind, he shifted in his seat to get a better view.

  “That land is mine and I’m not letting you or any drunken preacher cheat me out of it.”

  “Give it up, Brent.”

  “Never. Without a man, you can’t hold that ranch.”

  Asa sighed, knowing they’d reached the crux of the matter. As much as he admired the woman’s courage, she wouldn’t be able to hold the ranch without a man.

  “I’ve thought of that.” Her slightly slanted green eyes turned in his direction. “Are you Asa MacIntyre?”

  He dipped his head, so his hat shielded the expression on his face. “Maybe.”

  “The same Asa MacIntyre who single-handedly brought in the infamous Crull gang?”

  He tucked his chin a little lower, not liking the way the saddle bums in the corner were perking up. He’d come to town to relax. Not to have to battle with wet-behind-the ears kids dead set on establishing a reputation for themselves with his dead body. He was too close to his dream to risk that. “Maybe.”

  “The same Asa MacIntyre who headed up the Kingman Drive back in ‘63?”

  He sighed, recognizing I-won’t-give-up determination when it stared him in the face. “Yeah.”

  Elizabeth’s voice shook for the moment it took her to ask the next question. “The same Asa MacIntyre who stopped the blacksmith from beating little Willy Jones yesterday?”

  He found it interesting that her composure broke on that question. He sat up straighter in his chair and pushed his hat back off his face. “Yeah, that’s me.”

  One shuddering breath and her face became as blank as her inflection. “Word has it you’re looking to buy a small spread around here.”

  “If you’re about to offer me the Rocking C, I got to tell you, it’s way out of my pocket. I’m looking for something smaller, around a couple hundred acres.”

  And it’d taken him all of fifteen years to save the money for that dream. Fifteen years of working cattle, hauling in bounties, and busting his butt, doing any job that would yield close to an honest buck.

  “But, if you could afford it, you’d be interested?”

  “Sorry, ma’am.” He tipped his hat in her direction. Lord, that woman had guts. “As tempting as the prospect is, there’s no way I could stretch my earnings to cover a couple thousand acres.” But he would someday. He would. And when he did, no man would look down his nose at him, spit when he passed, or keep their daughters from his company.

  “What if I said it wouldn’t cost you anything?”

  He pushed his glass away. “Then I’d say there was something fishy about this deal. Especially as the ownership of this property is in some dispute.”

  “If you agree to my terms, there’ll be no dispute.”

  “Pardon me, but I don’t think you can guarantee that.”

  “Jesse Graham assures me that my legal husband will have full and complete title to the land.”

  “It would appear to me you already have more husbands than you know what to do with.”

  “I know exactly what to do with Brent, Mr. MacIntyre. The question is, do you know what to do with the Rocking C?”

  “I know what to do with it. I’m just going to have to think on it.”

  “Please, reach a decision quickly.”

  “I’ll do the best I can.” He raised his glass of whiskey, noted the nearly indiscernible tremor in his hand, and took a steadying sip. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! First, the Crull brothers and their hefty bounty had fallen into his hands like ripe plums and now this! He was on a lucky streak, for sure.

  “Mr. MacIntyre?”

  “I’m ruminating as fast as I can.”

  “Perhaps if you confided your reservations, I could help you reach a decision.” When he didn’t respond, she prodded some more. “It’s true we’ve had problems with rustlers recently, but I’m sure, once the men have someone they respect in charge, the rustlers will leave the Rocking C alone and search for easier game.”

  “I’m not worried about rustlers, ma’am. No matter what a man has, there’s always someone looking to take it away.”

  “Is it Brent then? I assure you he has no legal claim.”

  Asa smiled, shooting the now quiet man a disgusted glare. “That little piss-ant isn’t worth the effort it would take to squash him.”

  “Surely you’re not afraid of marriage?” she asked in patent disbelief.

  Asa sighed. “I’m afraid you found me out, ma’am.”

  “But marriage is nothing more than a piece of paper to a man. It doesn’t curtail any of your rights! As a matter of fact, you gain quite a few.” Her fine lips thinned as she conceded. “Over me.”

  “And that’s an awful lot of responsibility for one man to own.” He looked pointedly at the gun in her hand. “You don’t appear the cooperative type.”

  “That’s your problem?”

  “Yup.” He took a last sip of his whiskey. Lord! If he took this woman for w
ife, not only would he have the biggest ranch around, but any children he had would have a lady for a mother, guaranteeing they’d grow up respected. “This territory is a dangerous place. One of the prime qualities I plan on looking for in a wife is the ability to stay put when I tell her to.”

  “You want my obedience.”

  “Wouldn’t go amiss.”

  “You have it.”

  “Have what?”

  “My obedience.”

  Still that same deadpan expression backing that deadpan voice. What would it take to rattle this woman? “Well, I thank you, and as soon as I decide whether to take you up on the deal, I’ll be asking for your word on it.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d hurry up.”

  He wondered if she was afraid of the gambler. “Why?”

  “My arms are getting tired.”

  And here he thought she’d admit to something like fear. He laughed at his own idiocy and rolled to his feet. In three strides, he was at her side. “Well, put the gun down, darlin’. I think I can keep this varmint contained for you.”

  He had her full attention. “You’ll marry me? You’ll take on the Rocking C?”

  “You’re promising me obedience if I do?”

  “I promise.”

  “Then I’m considering it.” He caught a whiff of vanilla through the smell of smoke and sweat. Like a breath of spring after a long hard winter, the scent swept from her to him, uncovering longings he’d thought permanently snowed under.

  “I’ve always had a hankering to take myself a genuine lady for a wife,” he admitted. “Always thought it’d be out of my reach, though. Sorta like a spread the size of the Rocking C.”

  And that was more than the truth. It’d been his furthest out-there dream, and now it was standing before him, chin up, eyes shooting fire, determination oozing from every pore, tossing out invisible challenges like swear words at a cussing match.

  “But now?” she prompted.