“What took you so long?” she demanded in a tone about as grumpy as it could get.
He gave her only a brief, surprised glance before he answered in a sarcastic tone, nearly as surly as hers. “Nice to see you, too, Kid. Is there any rope around here to tie these two up with?”
“Probably not, but I’ve got lots of useless petticoats under this skirt that will make do.”
That was said just as caustically, yet it had the opposite effect on Damian. It made him smile. Probably because he knew she’d rather be in her jeans than in a confining dress, which she was stuck with for the time being.
She didn’t resent his humor—well, yes, she did—but she didn’t remark on it. She got busy looking for some rope instead. She didn’t find any even after locating a small shed out back that contained odds and ends, but a knife made quick work of her petticoats, and the tough cotton did serve just as well as a rope.
It was a few hours after dark by then, and Casey had no desire to spend the rest of the night in that cabin, nor was she the least bit tired. Her adrenaline was still flowing, in fact, though she couldn’t imagine why, now that they were safe. So she suggested they head back to Culthers immediately, and Damian agreed.
Jed was rolled up in a blanket and tied to the back of his horse. The other two men were left outside, fully trussed up and gagged—they weren’t going to be making any plans they could discuss together if they got left alone. They did get left alone when Damian went into the cabin one final time to put out the fire.
Casey wasn’t sure why she followed him, but she did. And then she kind of figured out why her blood was still pumping so strongly.
“I thought you were going to die today,” Damian said when he turned and found her behind him.
“So did I,” Casey replied in a small voice.
And then he yanked her to him and was kissing her in the way she’d wanted to kiss him earlier. So he felt it, too? A need to reaffirm life after thinking more than once today that they were each not going to see another sunrise? And damn, it was a powerful need. It didn’t matter that there was blood on the floor, or that there was no sheet on the bare mattress that he lowered her to, or that Jed and Jethro had been dumped on the ground outside. For her, all that mattered was the contact with someone she cared about—and the blazing desire that sprang immediately to life and blocked out every other thought.
He didn’t undress her, there was too much urgency for that; just raised her skirt and ripped off her drawers, probably not intentionally—the thin material simply didn’t withstand his strong tug. But she didn’t even notice until later. All she noticed at the moment was the welcoming taste of him as he continued to devour her mouth with his, and the incredible pleasure as he entered her.
Such a feeling of rightness, as if she had been missing something intangible but was now whole again. And the passion flared brighter. Yet it was over too quickly. It was almost immediate, the swift climb and then the soaring burst of ecstasy. Yet it was more intense than before, more wildly satisfying in a different way as well. And such peace settled over her afterward.
It was something she had needed, apparently, and needed very badly. It was just a singular, blaring misfortune that she was afraid Damian was the only one she’d ever experience it with. Had she admitted she cared about him? Dammit all, she cared too much.
Chapter 40
A bright, nearly full moon allowed them a quick ride back to Culthers. It was still deep in the middle of the night when they arrived, the town silent, only a few dogs barking to note their passing. Casey was definitely feeling exhausted by then and suggested they head for the boardinghouse, where the prisoners could be tucked behind a locked door until morning, when she and Damian could decide what to do with them.
Damian nodded in agreement, but said, “There’s only one decision to make—what to do with young Paisley. Jack will be returning with me to New York to stand trial.”
She had expected as much, but then, they hadn’t spoken since leaving the cabin, had merely concentrated on getting the horses back to town without any coming up lame. They hadn’t spoken of what had happened in the cabin either, but what was there to say, really, about that? That it shouldn’t have happened, sure. That it had been beneficial, sure. That it wasn’t going to happen again, sure. None of which could be said without embarrassing them both.
But it was safe to speak of anything else. Casey waited until they had put Jack and Paisley in Larissa’s lockable storeroom at the boardinghouse. They’d had to promise the schoolteacher a full accounting in the morning before she’d taken herself back to bed.
On the way up the stairs to their respective beds, Casey finally told him, “I didn’t get around to mentioning it, but Jack definitely isn’t Henry.”
That, of course, stopped Damian cold. “You’re saying this isn’t over yet?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that. You’ve got the right man; it just wasn’t Henry to begin with. The way Jack told it, Henry died in a fight they had, accidentally, though Jack didn’t have much remorse over it. Jack had gone back to New York to visit his family, and with Henry dying, he decided to make it a profitable trip by assuming Henry’s identity and his job—just long enough to steal that money from your company.”
“But why kill my father if all he is is a thief?” Damian demanded.
“I guess your father knew Henry better than most. Jack said he was starting to notice that Henry was acting—well, strange, you could call it. Jack didn’t do such a good job of pretending, I guess. Your father was starting to ask questions. His suspicions were becoming obvious to Jack. You can figure out the rest.”
“So if my father hadn’t noticed anything wrong with Jack’s performance, he’d still be alive?”
“That’s the gist of it. Jack wanted Henry to take the full blame for the theft, and, of course, Henry would never be found because he was already dead and disposed of. And Jack, unknown to anyone except his aunt, wouldn’t be the one anyone looked for. It was a foul, though logical, plan, if you think about it. But Jack got worried there at the end that your father, already suspicious, might question his aunt and find out that Henry had a twin, one who had recently been in the city. That would have been all it took to point the finger at the true culprit.”
Damian sighed. “So now I could wish that my father hadn’t been quite so discerning.”
“You could, but there’s no point, is there? It happened, and now you have the man responsible for it. Justice will at least be served.”
“Yes, small consolation, but better than none at all,” Damian replied.
Casey nodded and continued up the stairs. But once at her door, she decided to bring up a different subject, and spoke in a somewhat disgruntled tone. “By the way, the next time you toss me an empty gun, how about letting me know that it’s empty? I came within seconds of dying because I shot Jed without a bullet to back it up.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his face reddening. “You know handguns aren’t my area of expertise. I never even thought to check to see if the gun was empty or not. You asked for bullets. Those you got, a whole boxful. I figured you might like to have an extra gun handy, is all.”
She blushed, after that explanation, which put the fault back in her corner. She could have taken an extra moment in the restaurant to load the darn thing.
“It doesn’t matter now.” And then she admitted, “But your timing was excellent, if you didn’t notice. You saved my life in that cabin, Damian. Thank you for that.”
“Now that’s the last thing you have to thank me for,” he replied with a half smile.
But then he was suddenly staring at her with that piercing look of his that could make her so flustered inside. She probably ought to mention to him that she had—feelings—for him, if he hadn’t already figured that out. She just couldn’t see what difference it would make, though. He still wouldn’t want to stay married to her. He still wouldn’t want someone like her for his wife. And she was goi
ng to get choked up if she continued to think about it.
So with a quick “G’night,” she entered her room and closed the door, then stumbled in the dark toward the bed and fell on it. Tears had already sprung to her eyes.
There was very little left to do, to finish up the job she’d been hired for. Actually, her part of it was done. As soon as she was paid, she’d have no reason not to tell Damian good-bye. And that thought was tearing her up inside something fierce.
Out in the hall, Damian stared at the closed door for a long moment, debating whether to knock and get Casey back out there. He even raised his hand halfway, then slowly lowered it.
Again, she was acting as if they hadn’t made love, hadn’t shared that intense intimacy. She avoided meeting his eyes. Was she that ashamed of what they’d done? Or was it more that she was just ashamed that she’d shared intimacy with him in particular?
That idea hadn’t occurred to him before, but he was well aware she found him lacking in all the traits she apparently admired in a man. Tenderfoot was what she called him in the purest derogatory sense. But Casey lived in a land that still lived in the past. There was very little difference in a Western town today from one that existed fifty years ago. Whereas the cities in the East were growing by leaps and bounds, as they should be with a new century right around the corner. Was he supposed to ignore progress that made life easier, just because she did?
Why did he even wonder about it? They would be parting soon. She was eager to go home and prove herself to her father. She’d shown in every way possible that she felt the intimacy they had shared was a mistake. Not once had she given him any encouragement to press the issue.
Damian sighed and returned to his own room. It was just as well, he supposed. He couldn’t imagine Casey presiding over a business dinner with him—which his wife would be expected to do—without laying a six-shooter on the table. He couldn’t picture her running his rather large household. He could certainly see her in his bed for the rest of his life, but where would she insist on that bed being located? In some obscure Western town? Independent little darling that she was, she’d probably want to support him as well.
No, it was just as well that they’d be parting. He only wished he could stop feeling so damned miserable about it.
Chapter 41
By the time they dropped Jed off at the undertaker the next morning, they had drawn quite a crowd, but that was to be expected, considering that Jack and Jethro were trussed up like game hens. Folks who looked like prisoners always drew notice. It never failed, actually, and was usually beneficial. This time was no different.
The sheriff was out on his porch to meet them, having become aware that a near mob was ascending on him. Whether he had been in Jack’s pay or not wasn’t relevant at this point. If he wanted to keep his job, he’d be abiding by the law, at least in this situation. And the reason was, there were many in the crowd throwing accusations, now that Jack had been dethroned, so to speak. They had been too afraid to complain previously about the threats over voting but weren’t now.
Damian even made it easier for the sheriff to switch sides by letting him know right off that Jack was being taken back to New York to stand trial for murder. Only Jethro was being turned over to him. Elroy would still have to be arrested, but he’d be easy enough to find, since his wounds left him bedridden.
Damian had pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it for the sheriff to read. Casey’s jaw had nearly dropped when she glanced over his shoulder and saw what it was—his appointment to U.S. Deputy Marshal. Well, hell, he could at least have told her he was really a deputy, rather than let her draw her own conclusions. Of course, he didn’t know she hadn’t believed him.
It was still a surprise, though a nice one. And she had to allow that, with the way he dressed now, having put his fancy suits away for the time being, he made a fine-looking U.S. deputy, even if it was only for the temporary job of finding and arresting Curruthers.
They rode out of Culthers for the last time later that morning, with Jack in tow. There was time to spare to catch the eastern-bound train in Sanderson, and soon they were traveling in comfort again—Damian’s parlor car was still there waiting for them.
He had yet to come across a bank capable of transferring the funds needed to pay Casey with, so she was still traveling with him for the time being. She wished it were otherwise, because the longer she remained in his company, the more she resented that it couldn’t be permanent. So she settled for second best and tried to ignore him as best she could. And if he happened to catch her staring at him, well, she just pretended she was deep in thought, and where her eyes had settled meant nothing at all.
They had to pass through Langtry again, but it was only a few hours’ stop this time, so they both agreed that the wisest course would be to simply remain in the car. Neither of them wanted to risk another unpredictable run-in with Judge Bean, for obvious reasons.
Unfortunately, the parlor car was remembered in that town, and the judge must have been short on his whiskey funds, because his bailiff came knocking on the door about twenty minutes after the train arrived. Casey seriously considered declining the invite to appear before the judge’s judicial bench again. She could get Old Sam off the train and be gone before the bailiff managed to round up a posse to force the issue. But she’d be abandoning Damian if she did, since he’d already disposed of his horse and Jack’s, figuring they wouldn’t be needed again. And she certainly couldn’t fit all three of them on Old Sam.
So with little choice in the matter, she ended up walking into Roy Bean’s courtroom with Damian at her side. Bean’s drinking buddies were all there. And Bean himself was giving them an ear-to-ear smile, which made Casey even more wary.
The bailiff who had fetched them took a moment to whisper something in the judge’s ear. Bean looked surprised. For whatever reason he’d demanded their presence, he now had something else to sink his teeth into.
He didn’t leave them in suspense, saying, “My bailiff tells me you’ve got a prisoner in that fancy train car of yours. The fella you were looking for?”
Damian answered, “Yes.”
“Well, hot damn,” Bean said and then, with a grin, glanced toward his cronies, who were lined up against the bar, almost like permanent fixtures. “Looks like we’re going to have us a hanging, boys.”
Damian shook his head and tossed his appointment paper on the table for Bean to look at. “I’m afraid not. As a U.S. deputy, I have the authority to return this man to stand trial in the state that he committed his crime in.”
Bean was definitely disappointed, even sighed heavily before he allowed, “So you do. Well, that’s a shame. I would have been glad to hang him for you.”
Damian retrieved his paper and said, “Thank you, Your Honor. And if that’s all—”
“Now, hold on,” the judge interrupted. “That ain’t all, actually. You two still hitched up?”
Casey couldn’t help recalling how diligently Damian had searched for a judge to change that fact, and she replied churlishly, “Only because we haven’t found a judge between here and Sanderson—Your Honor.”
Bean was back to grinning. “They don’t call me the only law west of the Pecos for nothing, missy. Now I have to tell you that after you left town, I got to thinking I’d been a mite neglectful in your case. I did my duty as I saw it, since you were clearly traveling in sin. But I forgot to mention what I usually tell the folks I hitch up, that at any time thereafter, for another five dollars, I’d be glad to unmarry ’em if’n it don’t take. And seeing as how you just admitted you’re looking to get unhitched, I guess I can’t do less than I’d do for other folks. So by the power invested in me, I hereby unmarry you.” His gavel banged once on the table. “That’ll be five dollars. Pay the bailiff.”
Chapter 42
There was an overnight stop in the next town, as well as a larger, more affiliated bank, one that could handle the transfer of such a large amount of money. An
d they arrived early enough that Damian was able to secure the bank draft for Casey, which he handed to her that night at dinner in the small restaurant they found near the hotel.
That was it, then. She’d been paid, and they were no longer married. They were still traveling in the same direction, but they didn’t have to do it together. Casey could just as easily wait for the next train or ride out on her own. She couldn’t see prolonging her misery, now that she didn’t have to. And misery it was.
She stared at Damian across the table in that little restaurant and felt like her heart was breaking, while he was perusing the menu, unaware of her turmoil. He’d been moody since the “divorce,” but she could understand that. He’d wanted it, yet it still went against the grain, having it forced on him in the same manner the marriage had been forced on him.
Ornery judges like Bean who toyed with people’s lives just for self-serving, monetary reasons ought to be outlawed, and hopefully, they were a dying breed. But the folks who got toyed with had no recourse in the meantime—except to get on with their lives.
Casey was going to do exactly that. She wasn’t going to say good-bye, either. Crying in front of Damian was out of the question, and that was what she was afraid she’d do if she had to actually say the words that would sever their relationship for good. He expected to see her on the train in the morning. She wouldn’t see him again after tonight.
They were staying in the same hotel—she hadn’t even bothered to look for a boardinghouse. The walk back to it was excruciating, though. He spoke of mundane things. She didn’t say anything at all, the knot in her throat too tight for words.