"I imagine you didn't."

  "I didn't mean to cause you trouble the other day."

  "That right?" Sam took his tequila and a slice of lemon with him to a small table.

  Reese followed with his beer. "Lucky you weren't the right man. I mean not wanting to see trouble and all, I was real glad of that."

  Sam looked at him as he bit into the lemon then swigged from the tequila. "That so? You didn't hear what old Snake wanted just now, did you?"

  "Not a thing," Reese said, the lie showing on his face.

  "That's good. A man knows too much in this territory-- it can be dangerous."

  "I seen that myself," Reese agreed.

  "Good."

  “Yeah, I don’t want no trouble. Not none. Nope, never have.”

  "Might be good to stay away from temptation for a while."

  Reese nodded emphatically. "Don't much like big towns anyway no more anyway. Since the railroad's come, Tucson’s just plain too big. Hardly ever go there."

  Sam nodded, downed the remainder of the tequila, and ordered another. "And another beer for my friend," he said.

  Back on Satan, a bottle of whiskey in his saddlebag, Sam decided not to head straight for the ranch. He felt a dark depression settling over him. One way or another he had to put an end to this thing and the first step was retrieving what had been stolen.

  When he and his men had seen what was buried by the weasel, they'd taken the leather satchels and reburied them nearby. Close enough to find, but not be found unless a man knew where to look. He'd ordered them left because to possess them was tantamount to a confession of guilt. From the moment he dug them up until he got rid of them, he would be a marked man. If found with the goods, no sheriff or marshal would ever believe he hadn't been the one to rob the stagecoach.

  He rode hard, got the bags not long before sunset, and decided he wasn't going to have any choice about spending a night out. Even though he had told Ollie to reassure Abby, she would worry, but he was near exhaustion, not discounting that riding on such a moonless night in this rough country would be asking for a broken leg for his horse and broken neck for himself.

  He'd brought no food with him; so his Spartan camp was made up of a small fire, the water in his canteen, a few swallows of whiskey. The air was warm enough that he barely needed the single blanket he had brought. Trying to sleep and finding it impossible, he lay watching the coals of the fire and thinking about Snake and Sandy. Indirectly, he blamed himself for both deaths. One he'd killed, the other he'd put in a position to be killed. Had he sent them to heaven or hell--or were they no more?

  All the talk Abby had been putting out about a God who cared brought back memories of the pastor who'd spoken of hellfire and damnation, but who had then tried to use those threats to force him as a boy into doing things that were unspeakable. Man was no one to judge God by, but since that time he'd done just that. Now he had someone else--Abby. Her belief made him wish he could also, but he'd gone past the point of being able to accept something like that for himself.

  Redemption. People threw out the word, but unless he missed his guess, someone like Abby had very little from which to be redeemed. Her sins had been the little transgressions that people he knew would consider virtues. It was different for Sam. He'd killed men. Murdered one. He'd been a thief.

  There was no possible way any kind of god could overlook what he'd done, and it was only a matter of time until the I.O.U.'s were called in and his own life forfeit. He would not see Abby caught in that with him.

  The answer was to get the stolen goods to Tucson and Abby with them. He would never be able to have her for his own. His punishment, while he was alive, would be the loss of the thing he now wanted more than anything he'd known. He had called down the vengeance on himself, along with his own verdict--guilty.

  Night settled around him, seemingly stilling the very air. At first, the quietness was unbroken. Then he heard the tiny sounds of the night creatures as they went about their business, some not so far from where he laid. Rustling in the grass was either a snake or lizard. Then it was gone. In the distance he heard an owl, then another answered.

  The crescent moon was coming up in a corner of the skies, the sky overhead bright with stars. In the blackness, everything looked pristine and pure. That wasn't where men lived. He reached for a handful of dust, let it trickle through his fingers. Dust to dust. Wasn't that what the Good Book said. Man was made of dust and to dust he would return. So far as Sam could see man also spent his whole life working in that dust, living it, eating it. If there was a place that was different, Sam would never see it. Snake was right. Someday he'd meet him in hell.

  He must have dozed sometime during the night but didn't know when as it felt he had been awake all night. Eventually, he was aware of light beginning to grow in the east. He saddled Satan; feeling like his own body was past the point of tiredness but determined to get to the ranch. With nothing to eat, he took a few more swigs from the whiskey bottle. It went straight to his head and did nothing to give him the energy he wanted. He rode, half asleep in the saddle, not keeping a tight rein on Satan as he knew he should, but for once the big horse seemed calm and let Sam get away with the laxity.

  At the ridge above the ranch, Sam stopped Satan to look at his land as he was his wont. Sitting loose in the saddle, he didn't see the snake slither across the road until the big black horse reared back, bucking twice. Before he realized what had happened, Sam was on the ground, flat out, the wind knocked from him. He cursed himself and the evil-minded horse that was now running pell-mell for the ranch. He tried to get up enough air for a whistle, but by the time he managed, Satan was out of earshot, not that he probably would have stopped anyway.

  Pushing himself to his feet, Sam winced as he put his weight down on his right leg. He cursed again as he realized he’d twisted his knee in the whole fracas. He didn't think he'd done it any serious damage, but it was going to make walking the three miles to the ranch house a less than pleasant experience. If Ollie noticed Satan coming in, he'd probably backtrack to him. Sam held onto that thought as he began to limp his way down the road.

  He had gone a scant half mile when he heard the horse coming fast from the ranch. Looking up, he saw with surprise that the rider was Abby on her mare, her skirt flying in the wind. He almost smiled when he saw she was riding bareback, a definitely pleasurable sight until he remembered that she would want to know where he'd been.

  "What happened?' she asked as she pulled Belle to a stop a few feet from him.

  "Fell off," he said, thinking the answer should have been obvious.

  "I've been worried sick."

  "I told Ollie I might be out overnight.”

  "Where have you been?"

  He smiled, unsure of why he did so as he found his situation anything but humorous. He didn't want to tell her about Snake but could not think of a way to avoid it at some point. Before he could say a word, she had slid off Belle and walked up to him, the horse's reins in her hands.

  "You've been drinking," she said as she got close enough that the whiskey on his breath would have been obvious to anyone. "Is that why you fell off your horse?"

  "Where's your gun?" he shot back.

  “Where’s yours?”

  “On the saddle.” He had made a mistake in not wearing it, which didn’t make him pleased to admit. “You though rode out here not knowing what you’d face.”

  “When I saw your horse come racing in, it did occur to me you might be lying in the road, wounded or with a broken neck," she snapped.

  "And if somebody had been standing over me, you'd have been the next target, wouldn't you?"

  She glared at him. "You're deliberately trying to distract me from your drunkenness."

  "I'm not drunk."

  "You've been drinking."

  "I've had a couple of nips from a bottle that is now hopefully safely in the barn. On an empty stomach, it left a little more glow than usual, but not enough to be drunk by any man's definition."

  "What about a woman's?"

  He grinned. "There would be a difference, would there? Does that mean a woman only cares what it looks like while a man cares what it is?"

  Her eyes narrowed into angry slits, and she looked mad enough to spit nails at him. He thought about then he was probably lucky she hadn't brought a gun with her. "You are a hypocrite," she finally said.

  "Just like a woman to change the subject.”

  "That is the subject. You tell me I'm taking a risk by riding out here without a gun, yet you ride off to face a man you know wants to kill you, who probably wouldn't mind ambushing you; then you get drunk."

  “So, you knew where I went.”

  “It would take an idiot not to guess.”

  "Well, to start with I'm not drunk, and Snake won't be ambushing anybody."

  Her mouth snapped shut. "How do you know that?"

  "Because I killed him."

  "Did you have to?"

  He nodded, doubting she would believe him.

  "Will the law be looking for you because of it?"

  "It was a fair right with witnesses."

  She looked away. "Were you hurt?" she asked, still not looking at him.

  "No."

  "Then why were you limping?"

  Damnation. He'd thought he'd stopped walking soon enough that she wouldn't see the limp. She had eyes like an eagle. "I twisted my leg when I went off Satan," he admitted.

  "Do you think if you changed that horse's name, maybe he'd behave better?"

  He suppressed the smile. "He saw a snake. I didn't-- in time."

  "Are you all right?"

  "Fine." As fine as a man could be who had faced some hard truths. There would never be any end to the killing, and he had to find a way to let go of the only woman he’d ever loved, the only one he was likely ever to want.

  "Can you get on Belle or should I ride back for some of the men to help you?"

  "I don't need any help getting on a horse," he said through his teeth.

  "No saddle," she reminded him.

  "I didn't hurt my eyes when I fell, just my dignity.”

  She smiled then. "If you helped me get on her first, I could pull you up," she suggested. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, he put his hands on her hips, lifting her onto Belle's back. She settled the horse, then reached for him.

  "You really think you could lift me?" he asked, half amused despite his determination to stay aloof from her.

  "If I had to."

  Using his good leg, He gave a twisting leap and was on Belle.

  She lifted the reins and turned them slowly toward the ranch. Her soft buttocks were pressed against him, the rhythm of the horse moving him and her. He tried to shift away from her. Making love to her again was not part of the plan. She scooted back and soon was pressed against him again, that soft little butt doing things to his body that made him forget for a moment why it mattered. He felt more heat surge into his groin.

  “You sure you’re all right,” she asked, leaning against him, now touching the whole length of his torso. He’d never experienced anything like this riding with her and realized they needed to make this a quick trip if he had any hope of keeping either his determination or sanity.

  She twisted to look into his eyes, her own eyes alight. Dusky lashes went down in a movement as old as time, so seductive he felt his senses reel. If he had thought she was innocent in her movements, he realized he'd been wrong. His arousal swelled against his jeans.

  "Abby," he warned.

  "Mmmmmmm?" She moved her legs enough to push against his thighs.

  “What are you trying to do?”

  “Well, I’m not sure, but am I succeeding?” She put the reins into his hands. “Go slow,” she ordered.

  “And if I don’t.”

  “We might both fall off.” She twisted then and brought her lips against his, her arms entwined around his neck.

  “This isn’t going to work,” he said beginning to see what she had in mind.

  “Are you sure?” She moved a bit more. “Hold Belle steady,” she ordered as she lifted her leg and scooted around, and in less than a moment was facing him her legs over his thighs.

  “Good God,” he muttered. Then his lips were sealed by hers. He knew anyone could come along, that this wasn’t really possible even given Belle’s steady even gait, but he couldn’t stop her. No longer wanted to.

  “Do you think we can?” she asked pressed so tightly against him that the horse’s movements were making him think he was going to go off before they could find out.

  "No," he managed finally, but he felt her fingers on the buttons of his pants. Soon, she'd know his body wanted to try. She finally got the pants apart, and he realized she was wearing nothing under her skirt as he felt her skin against his.

  “I want you,” she whispered.

  He groaned as he felt her settle over him and they were one, the horse’s movement building onto theirs. He began to shift to try and satisfy her and himself, felt her moving against him. She moaned, her face showing all that she was feeling, the passion, the building sensations. He could feel her body swelling, the moist warmth, echoed by her full mouth, now teasing and kissing his face, his lips, doing all the things a man might dream of in a fantasy but never imagine experiencing.

  The moment seemed to go on forever and yet might’ve lasted only a few moments as he lost track of time. He felt the sensations building, his own control going. There was only this woman and him. Nothing else existed. He’d be able to hold off his release no longer. His whole body was ready to explode. Gratefully he heard her cry out, her body begin to contract, and he knew she’d found her own fulfillment and not a moment too soon.

  He held her as sanity returned to him. God, what the hell was he doing? At this rate, she’d be pregnant, and he’d never be able to set her free. He felt her warm and willing in his arms, a woman he couldn’t have. He had to find a way to set her free… but not just yet. For now, he’d hold her; he’d stroke her and whisper how beautiful she was. He’d say all that while in his heart, he knew their time together was ending.

  “We can’t ride into the ranch like this,” he said with a smile as he saw the buildings looming ahead.

  She groaned against his chest. “You sure?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  With his help, she shifted around; so she was riding forward as both readjusted their clothing to respectability. “Can’t shock Ollie, I guess,” she muttered.

  “Nope, can’t do that. Maybe anyway.” He chuckled.

  “Sam, what do we do now?” she asked with a sigh as she settled against his chest, let him continue to hold the reins.

  “With what?”

  “Us?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “Why not? Don’t you think I have a right to know?”

  “How could I tell you what I don’t know.”

  “What do you want?”

  “God, woman, is this the right time for this conversation?”

  “Is there a right one?”

  “No.”

  “Well, when we get back, you can rest and then…”

  “Then what?”

  She laughed.

  He knew he couldn't resist her. If he was near her, he would take whatever she offered him. He had to see her safely to her home, safely away from him.

  CHAPTER 25

  "Tell me what happened in Tubac," Abby said as they sat in the parlor, Sam's foot propped on a pillow. The quietness, the sounds of the crickets and frogs outside the window were disparate from the conversation she was apparently determined to have.

  "I told you," Sam said. He didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to admit his knee hurt nor tell her what he'd stowed in the barn after he’d gotten to the ranch. What was it with this woman, always probing, never satisfied? Is this what he thought he’d wanted before he knew what it was?

  "Did you have to do it?" she asked, her lips pressed tightly together.

  "If I hadn’t believed it needed to happen, I’d not have gone after him."

  "I suppose I knew but wanted to hear you say it."

  “Maybe you’re trying to find a justification for being with a man like me."

  “Is that what you think?”

  “I’m asking.”

  “I don’t need a justification. While I’m unsure of a lot I used to think I knew, at least where it comes to being with you, I did the right thing the day I asked you to take me with you. I also still believe it’s good to talk about things after they happen. It’s what husbands and wives do.”

  He laughed. “Ah yes, the usual conversation about how your day went and did the cattle rustling go well, dear, and oh yeah, how many men did you kill today?”

  She glared at him clearly not amused. “Well, maybe you can change some of your habits.”

  “And maybe I can’t.”

  “Maybe you don’t want to.”

  “I think we’ve had this conversation.”

  “We should share things.” Her jaw jutted stubbornly. “When we decided to be married, we made a vow that said we were going to be like one person."

  "You didn't even understand the words from the priest when we got married." He tried to think back to how this conversation had begun and decided it was a safer subject than the state of their marriage. "All right, you want to hear about how I killed Snake. You want every last bloody detail. You can have it."

  "That's not what I want."

  "Isn't it? Then I don't know what you want." He rose and limped to the fireplace, staring into the black ashes. "I've never understood what you wanted not from the minute you said you wanted to come with me." He turned to face her. "So, let's start with Tubac. As soon as I saw where he was heading, I knew what I was going to do. I let him draw first, let him take the advantage of the sun behind him, but I knew none of it would matter. I was faster, and I’d kill him."

  “Just like that?”

  “Yes.”

  "And you’re saying it didn’t bother you to kill him?"

  "Sometimes there is no choice. You want me to say it bothers me now? I won’t. I did what I believed I had to do. I have no regrets."

 

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