Lone Star Lonely (28 page)
Authors: Maggie Shayne
Tags: #texas, #family, #secrets, #cowboy, #ranch, #contemporary romance, #western romance, #maggie shayne, #texas brands, #left at the alter
“That’s right.” He tapped his badge and rose
to his full height. Then he walked around the desk to stand close
to her, look down at her. He made her feel like an ant on the
floor, and he knew it. “We Brands have done all right for
ourselves, Esmeralda. We
own
Quinn, Texas. So you may as
well scoot your bronze hide back to the other side of the Rio
Grande, honey. You got no business here.”
She backed away a single step, but kept her
eyes on his, nodding slowly.
“Si,
I understand it now. One
brother is the swindling banker, and the other is the sheriff. Two
are outlaws, free to run wild without any fear of the law. What are
the youngest two Brands doing, Garrison? Do they serve as judge and
jury of Quinn?”
Garrison smiled slowly. He would have been a
handsome man, if not for the evil in his eyes. “Why did you come
here, Esmeralda?”
“I think you know why. I come here to charge
your brothers with murder. My father’s murder.”
He lifted a brow. “Ol’ Montoya died, did he?
About time, I’d say.”
“I do not care what you think! My father is
dead, my land is stolen, and your brothers belong in jail. If you
think you can frighten me into giving up, you are wrong, Garrison
Brand.”
“If you don’t give up, little lady, the only
person landing behind bars is gonna be you. An’ if you think one
person in this town will take your part against a Brand—
any
Brand
—you’re dead wrong.”
She clenched her teeth, drew a breath through
her nose, and felt her nostrils flare as she blew it out again.
“Quinn is not the only town in Texas with a lawman. Believe me,
Garrison Brand, I will find one—an honest one—and see you all in
prison for what you’ve done.”
Garrison lowered his head, shook it slowly.
“Get out of my town, Esmeralda. By sundown.”
“And if I don’t?”
He glared at her, but said nothing. Esmeralda
turned and walked away.
She went back to the boarding house where
she’d rented a room last night—for, only hours after she and Pedro
had buried her father, an army of thugs in the employ of Allen
Brand had arrived with guns drawn to order her off the property.
Pedro had apologized, but then he’d fled in fear. She had been
given no choice but to comply.
It galled her that her father lay buried on
the land those Brands now claimed as their own. She hadn’t told
them where he rested, though, for fear they would desecrate his
grave out of sheer meanness.
At the boarding house, Esmeralda found her
satchel sitting on the front step, her belongings packed inside.
Frowning, she pounded on the door.
Mrs. Tremont opened it, saw her and scowled.
“I’m sorry, Miss Montoya, but I cannot tolerate your kind here.
This is a decent establishment. Had I known you were runnin’ about
town casting aspersions on its finest residents, I’d never have let
you through the door.”
Esmeralda eyed the woman without blinking.
“Tell me the truth,
Señorita
Tremont. Do not stand here and
lie to my face.”
The older woman blinked, averting her
eyes.
“You fear them. Everyone in Quinn fears them.
Yet you let them continue to run roughshod over you, over the law,
over the entire town.”
“Hush!” The woman glanced up and down the
street nervously. Her voice lower, she said, “Allen Brand holds the
mortgage on this place, young lady. If I cross him, I could lose
everything.”
“I see.”
The older woman looked ashamed. “I wish I
could help you. It’s a shame what happened to your father, but it
wasn’t my fault. Why should I risk everything I have for...” Her
voice trailed off.
“For a Mexican?” Esmeralda asked. “My father
used to say the hottest places in hell are reserved for those who
see injustice and do nothing. You are a coward, Mrs. Tremont. Quinn
has become a town of cowards.”
“How
dare
you!”
“Kindly return my money. I paid you for a
full week in advance.”
The woman sniffed. “Really? Do you think the
sheriff would believe you?” She slammed the door in Esmeralda’s
face.
Her father also used to say one could catch
more flies with honey than with vinegar. Perhaps she should try to
remember that phrase.
Clutching her satchel, Esmeralda battled
tears of outrage. To hell with them all. She would go to El Paso.
She still had a gold eagle in her pouch. She would find a judge
there, or a lawyer, or perhaps even a U.S. Marshal. And then she
would come back, and she would bring the Brands to ruin. Every last
one of them.
Slogging tiredly along the boardwalk, she
knew it would be a full hour before the next stage came through,
and she had yet to eat today. She started to go into the town’s
only eatery, but the owner closed the door before she could even
step through, and she heard the bolt being slid home. So the Brands
had made the rounds, it seemed. They’d warned the entire town not
to dare associate with her. A small chill raced up her spine. The
sooner she could shake the dust of Quinn from her pinching,
button-up boots, the better. She had not intended to put herself
completely at the mercy of a band of outlaws, but that was
precisely what she had done. She was not safe here. No wonder her
father had refused to let her come back home, even when she’d
begged. No wonder.
She kept walking, no longer as confident. As
she passed the bat-wing doors of the saloon, the raucous laughter
from inside billowed out. Someone let loose a lewd whistle as she
passed, and she went cold inside, quickening her steps.
Then the doors slammed open, and boot heels
slapped the boardwalk behind her. She whirled in time to see the
youngest of the Brands, Eldon, tall and lanky, hat tipped at a
cocky angle, bearing down on her. “Goin’ somewhere, Esmeralda?”
She said nothing, just backed away. He used
to be so different. Funny, but always mean. Always. He was as
handsome as ever. Dark eyes like velvet, a strong jaw, hair the
color of russet. Yes, she saw through it all now. She saw the evil
inside.
He smiled and kept coming. “Oh, come on now.
You can’t come to town, run all over spreading lies about my
family, and then leave without even saying hello. Can you?”
“Leave me alone, Eldon. Your family has won.
I am leaving.”
“Oh, I don’t think I should let you go just
yet. Not until you’ve learned to respect your betters, at least.”
He lunged forward. She backed away, but he caught her all the same.
Dropping her satchel, Esmeralda pounded his chest, but Eldon Brand
was strong, and in no time at all he had her slung over his broad
shoulder and was striding away with her toward his waiting horse.
Her bonnet fell from her head, and her hair spilled free.
“Let me go!” She beat his back with her
fists, infuriated to hear drunken laughter coming from the saloon.
“Help me! Help me, someone!”
Jenny Brand stood in the bat-wing doors,
shaking her head. She wore a glittering, scandalously low-cut dress
of brightest red, and had painted her face. “When you finish,
little brother, don’t forget you still owe me for that bottle!” she
called.
“Yeah, yeah.” He slapped Esmeralda’s rump
hard. “Don’t worry, Jen. This won’t take long.”
“See she don’t give you the clap,” Jenny
called, and her patrons in the saloon roared with renewed laughter
as Eldon slung Esmeralda over his saddle, mounted his horse and
kicked it into a full gallop.
He didn’t take her far. Just beyond the edge
of town, riding into a cluster of boulders and tumble-weed. He drew
the mount to a halt, turned, and shoved her off. She landed on her
back on the sunbaked ground. Hair in her eyes, she pushed herself
up, hands behind her, and when he dismounted and came closer, she
spat at him.
He only smiled. “I like a little fight in my
women,” he said. “So you just give me a good struggle, Esmeralda.
I’ll enjoy it all the more.”
“Stay away from me, Eldon Brand!”
He kept coming forward, unfastening his belt
as he did. “I’ll know it’s all make-believe, though. You want me.
You’ve always wanted me.”
“Keep your hands off me!”
Esmeralda had taken all she was going to from
this family. Her hand slid beneath her skirts to the blade she kept
there. It was inside her garter, cool against her thigh.
Eldon straddled her, dropped to his knees,
and reached up to part her cropped jacket and grip the neck of her
white, frilly blouse. He tore it open, popping its buttons. Her
hand closed around the hilt of her blade. “Don’t make me hurt you,
Eldon. Stop this now.”
He grinned at her and gripped the front of
the chemise she wore underneath. She pulled the blade, drove it
upward and into his chest. For a moment he just froze there,
staring down at her with wide, surprised eyes. Blood bubbled from
his chest when she yanked the knife out. Then from his mouth when
he tried to say something. He fell sideways even as his eyes glazed
over.
She jumped to her feet and stood there,
staring down at him. Dead. He was dead. “
Dios,
what have I
done!” She backed away, staring down at the knife that gleamed
scarlet, at the blood on her hands, and on her once white blouse
and chemise, and she began to tremble.
“Hold it right there!” a voice shouted.
“Dammit, what the hell have you done to my brother!”
She couldn’t turn, couldn’t move. Shock
seemed to have paralyzed her. She was still standing there when
Waylon Brand, the famous outlaw, slid off his horse and raced
toward his fallen brother, while Blake, the quiet giant, walked up
behind her and pressed his gun barrel to her spine.
“Eldon?” Waylon rolled his brother over,
shook him. “Eldon, come on!” But Esmeralda knew it was no use.
She’d knifed the man right through his black heart.
“He...he hurt me. He was going to...to rape
me. I had no choice—”
“Shut up, whore!” Blake’s pistol barrel drove
into the small of her back. “I oughtta shoot you right here.” He
looked past her. “Waylon?”
“Dead,” Waylon said softly, his head hanging
low. “She killed him, Blake. She killed our baby brother.”
Blake swore loud and long. Waylon’s eyes
looked damp. He lifted his head, looked her right in the eye. “Get
a rope,” he told Blake.
There was a long moment of strained silence
then, as she stood there between them. Waylon, whipcord-lean, with
a legendary temper and looks as dark as her own. And Blake, as big
as Garrison, but blond rather than brown-haired. Quiet, for the
most part, but a Brand through and through, and just mean enough to
prove it.
“No.” It was Blake who spoke.
Waylon’s gaze snapped to his brother’s then.
“Why the hell not? She killed Eldon in cold blood. I say we string
her up here and now.”
Blake shook his head. “The whole family
deserves to see her hang. Hell, the whole town. Be good for ‘em. A
nice reminder of what happens when someone dares to mess with the
Brands. Besides, it’s the way Garrison would want it.”
Esmeralda’s blood ran cold. She wasn’t frozen
anymore. In fact, she was suddenly struggling without even thinking
about it. Fighting for her life while the hulking Blake held her
firmly and almost effortlessly. They were going to hang her! Kill
her! Take her life!
Waylon got to his feet and backhanded her.
She went still, first with shock and pain, and then, slowly, she
slipped into darkness.
The next time she opened her eyes, she was in
a jail cell, facing a barred window, beyond which men scurried to
construct what would obviously be a gallows. And it wasn’t going to
take long, either, at the rate they were going.
“Don’t you worry, Esmeralda.” The sheriff’s
voice drifted lazily into her cell. “We’re gonna hang you with a
brand-new rope. And that’s way better than you deserve.”
Lowering her head, Esmeralda automatically
closed her hand around the cool, glass-like stone she wore around
her neck. In his final moments, her father had asked her to get it
from the small wooden box he kept under his bed, and he’d pushed it
into her hands, saying it would protect her and set her on the
right path.
She closed her eyes and held it tight.
“Father, if this crystal skull of yours truly has any magic in it,
I need it now. I need it as I have never needed it before.”
Look for The Outlaw Bride, coming soon!
Lone Star Lonely
The Outlaw Bride
The Brands Who Came for Christmas
Brand-New Heartache
Secrets and Lies
Sweet Vidalia Brand
Also Available
Annie’s Hero
Miranda’s Viking