McLeod, Anitra Lynn - Dirty Cowboy (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove) (7 page)

Everett had heard of some government act that would give them the rights to a good chunk of land if they just lived on it for a few years. With his seemingly endless drifting, Everett welcomed the idea of staying put. As a bonus, they had a good deal of what they needed to get started. A wagon, oxen, and a horse. With a winter’s work in some town, they could get themselves fully outfitted to start homesteading in earnest come spring.

“But why can’t we go now?”

“Ain’t you the impatient one!” Everett had the itch to go now, too, but he was nothing if not practical. “We need supplies, and I don’t have the money to get us all what we need.”

First things first, they had to get to a town big enough to find work. Everett had skill as a ranch hand, but most of those jobs dried up in the winter. He could work as a blacksmith, and they thought Dalton would make a fine barber. It would be tough going at first, but if they were willing to work hard, and save everything they could, they could be on their own land come spring.

“At the latest I’m thinking middle of summer.” That was the cutoff as they would need time to build a place to get them through the winter.

“We could just live in the wagon,” Dalton suggested.

“Naw. Further north we go, the colder it gets come winter. This is fine for now, but I’d like a cozy home with a fireplace, and a bed, and maybe a table to toss you over when I’m feeling frisky.”

“Well,” Dalton drawled. “I can’t argue with that.”

“Sure you could.” Everett grasped his hands. “And I could persuade you again.”

After another lengthy debate that was more physical than verbal, they washed up, and then they loaded up the wagon, which Dalton had thoughtfully organized.

“We’re ready?”

Dalton looked back at the spring. He sighed heavily then nodded definitively. “We’re ready.”

They set off. The oxen pulled and his horse, tethered to the back of the wagon, followed behind. He and Dalton rode on the tiny wagon seat. It was a tight fit, forcing them to sit with their sides touching, but neither of them minded. The only problem was that proximity caused rising tension. Twice they had to pull off the main trail and then slake their passions.

What made things almost unbearably sweet for Everett was that this was the first time he had a true partner. Dalton wasn’t just a man he sought for sexual pleasure. Dalton was his companion, his lover, and his friend all rolled up into one. Everett didn’t think he could be any happier if he tried.

Blazing sun ate up the water from the rain. By midday, Everett would have sworn summer came back for a second visit. He lifted his hat and wiped the sweat off his brow. They were going to be welcoming the nightly cool-off this evening. Traveling with Dalton was a lot more pleasant than going alone. They didn’t talk much, but it was nice to have someone to see what he saw. Marveling at the curious alone was boring, but with Dalton, it was high entertainment. Dalton had a way with words and a way of looking at the world that renewed Everett’s somewhat jaded interest. Things just looked different to him now. Dalton faced everything with an openness, a breezy spirit that Everett admired. Even the fact that the man had no boots didn’t bother him.

“It’s not like I’m walking anywhere. I’ll get a pair at the next town.”

Dalton had found a few items in the wagon they could trade, and Everett had some money. All in all, he felt like the richest man in the world. Money wasn’t everything. There was a lot to be said for finding the answer to that gnawing longing that had always plagued him.

But like always, good for one meant bad for another. Just when he thought things couldn’t get any better, they up and got a hell of a lot worse.

Everett hoped the dot on the horizon was moving away from them, but it wasn’t. Whoever the rider might be, he was coming right at them. When the shape clarified into a man on horseback, his hackles rose. All the sweat on his body went suddenly cold. He shivered. A lone rider in the middle of nowhere? Either the man was a scout for a larger group, he’d befallen a fate worse than Everett’s, or he was a no-good scoundrel.

Knowing his luck, Everett had a feeling it was the latter. Now that he’d found exactly what he wanted, he wasn’t all that surprised someone showed up to take it away. Difference was, this time, he would fight tooth and nail to keep what he considered his. Before, letting go was always easier. Letting go and walking away became a way of life.

But not this time.

Everett could wait until the man made a move to know there was a problem, but his gut churned with knowing, and that inner voice woke up and started whispering fast and furious into his head. Everett wasn’t a prognosticator by any stretch, but he knew when something felt off. This situation felt a hundred kinds of wrong.

Dalton saw the man, too, but made no outward reaction. Everett would have told him to get his gun ready, just in case, but his guns were long gone. The thieves who’d taken off with the cattle had taken off with the weapons, too. All Everett and Dalton had were their fists.

“You know how to fight?”

Dalton nodded.

“We may not have to,” Everett said hopefully.

“I think we will.” Dalton kept his gaze dead ahead. “Seems I always have to fight. Or run.” Dalton gave him a measured look. “And I am damn sick of running.”

His words so closely mirrored Everett’s thoughts he shivered. They were two peas in a pod. A strange thought crossed Everett’s mind. He tried to shake it, but the thing clung like a burr to his gray matter. In the end, he asked, “You know this man?”

“No more than I know any other man.”

A normal response would be a simple no. That Dalton replied in such a way caused Everett’s hackles to rise even higher. There was something about the tone of Dalton’s voice and the flat look in his eye that scared the sinner right out of Everett. If he were a praying man, he would have offered up a quick one to the man upstairs, but he’d never been religious, and he didn’t think God would listen to the desperate plea of a fallen man.

The closer the lone rider came, the tighter Dalton’s posture became. By the time the man was but a few yards in front of them, Dalton was so taut one good clap on the back would propel him off the wagon like a bow shot. He damn near toppled forward when Everett stopped the oxen.

As much as he wanted to keep plowing forward, he knew that would only aggravate the situation. Cleverly, the man had placed himself dead in their path. Loose sand lined one side of the trail and a ditch lined the other. If they tried to move aside, they’d likely get stranded. Everett knew the man had timed his arrival to get them to this spot.

Now the man’s indistinct features became clear. He was tall in the saddle of a roan horse. Grit made him look swarthier than he was. At one time, his hat had been light brown, but now it was so caked with sweat and dust it was almost black. His eyes were shifty, his clothing was as battered as his hat, and the cruel slash of his lips indicated a man who only smiled when he was hurting another. In his hand, lying loosely across his lap, was a gun. Everett couldn’t tell what kind the pistol was, but he figured it didn’t much matter. If it was loaded, and the man was a half-decent shot, he could ventilate them in quick order.

“I don’t want no trouble,” the man said.

Everett’s heart sank. If this man was just a scout or a man traveling the other way, he would just tip his hat and toss a greeting. The only man who said he didn’t want trouble was a man aiming to make some.

“Fine by us,” Everett offered evenly.

“Toss out your weapons.”

“Ain’t got none.” Everett showed his empty hands.

Dalton shrugged but kept his hands in his lap.

The man’s eyes narrowed. He looked them over real careful like, but what seemed to sell him on the idea was Dalton’s bare feet.

“Where are your boots, boy?” Gone was the suspicious frown. In its place bloomed a cruel grin. Just as Everett predicted, he only smiled when he was picking on another. This man looked a lot like the man who had put the scar under Everett’s chin. That bully had the same twisted smile that didn’t indicate a welcome, but a show of aggression. “I asked where are your boots, boy?”

Dalton shrugged.

“Ya mute, boy?” The man lifted the gun, pointing it casually at Dalton.

To Everett the barrel looked enormous. Wide and long, a barrel like that had bullets that could rip a hole in them big enough to stand in. Everett’s heart pounded so hard his vision wobbled. He wanted to reach out and clasp Dalton’s hand, but he didn’t dare move a muscle.

“We ain’t got no money. If you want some grub, we’re happy to share, but that’s about all we got,” Everett said, hoping to draw the man’s attention off Dalton. What he’d said was no lie. Everett would give him everything he had if he could just walk away with Dalton.

“Not surprising, considering the man don’t have any boots.”

At that, Everett thought that maybe their sad state would set the man’s sights on the next target.

“Go ahead and climb down off of there.”

No such luck. Seemed he was hell-bent on taking what little they did have. Everett kept his face impassive as he considered. In order to take their wagon, this man would have to tie off his horse to the back, and climb up. When he did, he’d be vulnerable. That would be the time to make their move. Without the wagon for travel and shelter, they wouldn’t last two days out here. Just when he was thinking the two of them had an advantage against the lone gunman, three more dots came over the horizon. Everett’s hopes sank.

Gingerly, Dalton climbed out of the wagon. On the verge of joining him, Everett stopped cold.

“What are you doing, boy?”

Everett would have asked the question, too, but he didn’t want to make a tense situation any more confusing than it already was. Instead, he just watched and wondered.

Button by button, Dalton unfastened his shirt from neck to navel. When he was done, he lifted his shoulders and let the shirt slide off his arms. Before the garment had even touched the ground, he set to work unfastening his trousers.

In the bright sunlight, Dalton’s pale flesh seemed even more fragile. Without the protection of clothing, the sun would turn his hide to leather in half a day.

“I’m not interested in—shit.” The man cast his gaze over his shoulder, obviously worried about what his companions would make of this development. When he looked back around, Dalton was as naked as the day he was born.

If not for the dire situation, Everett might have gotten hard at the sight of Dalton’s perfectly proportioned body. As it was, his dick remained as soft as his brain. He had no idea what Dalton was up to. If he had a grand plan, Everett was happy to go along, but at the moment he was flummoxed.

“Get your clothes back on!” the gunman hissed, pointing at the pile of clothes with his gun. “Back on now, or I’ll—”

He never got to finish. What happened next ripped the air out of both their lungs. One moment Dalton was standing there naked as the day is long, and then all of a sudden he just went poof!

Rubbing his eyes, Everett realized he hadn’t disappeared so much as he seemed to have turned into a pile of dust. Fine, soft dirt covered the abandoned clothing. Just like the sinking soft earth he’d found all over and around Dalton as he lay half in the spring.

Everett and the gunman exchanged glances.

When Everett looked back, the pile of dust was swirling.

Around and around in an ever widening circle, the dust turned, picking up more of the loose dirt alongside the trail. Each pass caused the cone of dust to grow in height and width. Everett had seen his fair share of dust devils dancing across the prairie, but he’d never seen one behave like this.

Startled, the gunman’s horse neighed and backed up, almost dislodging him. No matter what the man did, he couldn’t calm his ride. In the end, the man yanked on the reins, turned his mount, and compelled the creature to run. Everett figured the only reason his oxen didn’t react is they couldn’t see what was happening, not facing forward with their eyes shielded by the rigging.