Mustang Annie (20 page)

The sound of multiple hammers being drawn back sounded like cannon fire in the stillness.

Annie looked around her in astonishment. Henry, Flap Jack, Dogie, and a fair-haired man she didn't recognize circled Savage's men, who slowly raised their hands above their heads.

Brett advanced on Ike and grabbed him by the collar, the veins standing out on his neck and arms. His cold rage finally erupted into blazing fury. “Remember the stakes of the game, Savage? Winner gets everything he deserves? Well, I'm gonna give you everything you deserve, you filthy sonofabitch.”

A right-handed undercut to his jowls snapped his head back. “That's for what you did to Annie's grandfather.”

A left-handed fist to the other side sent his head whipping the other way. “That's for what you did to Annie's husband.”

Delivering the final crushing blow, Brett brought his knee up between Savage's legs with force enough to jam his balls into his windpipe. “And you know what that's for.”

Savage turned green, dropped to his knees, and toppled over.

Brett scowled down at the badge on his chest. “Never did have much use for the law.”

“I brought Mr. Justiss, Ace. Just like you said.”

Brett layed a hand on the boy's shoulder. “You did real good, Dogie.”

Amazing how a few words of praise could make the boy's face light up.

“Actually, he caught me less than a mile out of the canyon,” Jesse said. “We've suspected Savage of running guns to the Indians for over two years. We just couldn't ever prove he was involved in it—until now.”

Brett tilted his head and studied his friend. “You really aren't the dumb-ass deputy you've been pretending to be.”

“No, I'm the best damn Pinkerton detective you'll ever meet.”

Brett grinned. He didn't doubt it for a second. Jesse and Flap Jack dragged Savage to the wagon, where a pair of Indians and Savage's cronies sat bound and tied on the tail gate.

“Rafe,” he called out to his former wrangler, “you should have stuck to building fences. It's a lot easier than splitting rock—which is exactly what you'll be doing for the next ten years.”

Rafe glared at him, and Brett's grin broadened.

Then it faded as the sensation of being watched settled over him. He turned to find Annie standing beneath the overhang. Their gazes met across the distance, and their hearts beat in unison.

He lifted his hands. Annie took one step. Then another. Then raising her arms, she sprinted into his arms. For long moments she simply held on to him with a choking grip. Then she pulled back to press moist kisses along his jaw, his cheeks, his lips. He tasted her fear, her relief, and, dare he hope . . . her love.

Once more she buried herself against his chest. Brett clutched her to him, his nose buried in the sweet fragrance of her hair. “You're shaking.”

“You damned fool,” she sobbed. “You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“Does it matter?” he asked quietly.

“Of course it matters,” she whispered, looking at the ground.

“Let's get you out of here.”

“Where?” she asked in surprise.

“Back to the ranch. We've got some unfinished business to settle. You do want your money, I assume.”

“But . . . I didn't catch the stallion.”

“No, you didn't.” His tone went brittle.

She dug in her heels; the connection of their hands broke. “You think I was going to betray you.”

He didn't need to answer; the truth lay in his eyes.

“Keep your damn money.”

“Annie, what was I supposed to think when I saw you down there?”

“You could have trusted me! I've never lied to you, Corrigan. I've never cheated or conned you either, though I've had plenty of opportunity. In fact . . .” she choked on her own thick voice. “I've been more honest with you than with anyone . . .
anyone
in my whole life. And you still thought the worst. I wasn't trying to steal the horse away from you; I was trying to steal it
for
you.”

“Why would you risk your life to bring me that horse?”

Annie swallowed. Her lips trembled. Her eyes glittered with tears. “Because it was the only thing I could give you.”

Chapter 25

I
t was a somber procession back to the Triple Ace. Annie and Wade Henry kept exchanging glances, his reassuring, hers worried. She had no idea what awaited her. U.S. Marshals? A hangman's rope? Jesse Justiss with a jail cell ready and waiting . . . ?

If not when they reached Tascosa, then eventually. It was only a matter of time before she would be made to pay for her crimes.

So why was she risking her hide to collect a fee she'd not likely live long enought to spend?

Brett had to know that as well as she did, but he didn't say a word. In fact, he hadn't said more than two words the last forty miles, not even to his men. He didn't even seem to care that the stallion he'd wanted so desperately trotted behind them as meek as a lamb.

He merely rode ahead, hat low over his eyes, jaw set, shoulders slouched with either weariness or resignation . . . she couldn't tell.

Annie wished for the anger she'd felt when she'd first realized he thought she meant to steal the horse, but in her heart, she couldn't blame him. She'd spent half her life relieving people of their horses and, she realized now, a portion of their pride.

He was better off hating her.

When they arrived at the ranch, Brett helped her off Chance's back. Lines of weariness fanned out from the corners of his eyes and had embedded itself in the grooves of his face.

He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I want you to go in the house and get a good night's sleep. No one will bother you.”

Annie wasn't sure what surprised her more—the gentleness of the gesture or the compassion behind his words. A tiny voice inside her reminded her that she needed to get while the going was good, that the longer she lingered here, the shorter her chances of making a clean escape. But she was so tired. . . .

Sapped of energy, drained of emotion, she complied without argument, falling asleep almost before her head hit the guest room pillow.

Brett stared at her from the doorway, his throat so tight he could barely breathe. Annie lay across the bedspread, her hair all around her, her clothes dusty and shadows of exhaustion under her eyes.

He remembered the first time he'd seen her, standing in front of him so tough and indifferent . . . no, not even indifferent. Dead, inside and out.

She'd gotten him his stallion. If he let himself think about how close he'd come to losing her, he'd come unhinged. Why had she pulled such a crazy, reckless stunt?

“It was the only thing I could give you.”

Nothing had ever touched him more than Annie's simple declaration. He'd spent over half his life amassing
things
—money, property, livestock—in an effort to prove his old man wrong, and she, who had nothing but an inbred instinct for survival, had risked everything to give him a stupid horse. Didn't she know the stallion meant nothing compared to her?

Losing the struggle with himself, Brett pushed away from the doorjamb and crossed the carpeted floor. The bed dipped beneath his weight as he climbed in next to her. Brett curled his body around her slight frame, wrapped his arms around her middle, and inhaled the scent of her hair. It smelled of Texas plains, wild mustangs, and panhandle winds. After tomorrow, he'd never see her again. Once he paid her fee, there would be nothing holding her to him.

How was he supposed to let her go?

 

Sunshine streamed through the bedroom window as Annie slowly dressed in the split riding skirt and blouse Brett had given her, feeling as if she were donning armor. In a sense, she supposed she was. She'd leave here today after being turned inside out and upside down, and have to pretend it didn't matter.

She descended the stairs, her saddlebags over her shoulder. On the flagstone landing, she paused to look around at the beautiful objects in Brett's home. The colorful tapestries, the prism lamps, the crystal decanter sets and leather bound books . . . one day a woman would live amongst all this finery. She'd keep his house, cook his meals, sleep in his bed and bear his children. . . .

For a moment she allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to be that woman. She didn't fool herself into thinking objects brought happiness; she'd spent some of the best years of her life in a dark little cabin with nothing but the basic essentials. But the idea of living out the rest of her days safe in a home like this, with a man who made her feel cherished and desired and loved . . .

Annie closed her eyes. No, she'd given up the right to such dreams the day she'd stolen her first horse.

Tossing her head, tilting her chin, straightening her shoulders, she strode out the front foor.

She came to a stunned halt on the gallery.

Below, gathered at the bottom of the steps, the men of the Triple Ace stood shoulder to shoulder, their hair slicked backed, Sunday suits crisp and clean. In the center of them was a blackcoated man with a white collar and Bible. Her stomach clenched.

“What is this?” she managed to ask.

Dogie, wearing a yellow shirt bright enough to make the flowers grow, stepped forward. “Miss Annie . . .” He sucked in a deep breath, then blurted, “I'd be right proud if you'd do me the honor of being my stepmother.” He shoved a posy of yellow flowers and Indian paintbrush toward her.

Dumbly, Annie took the wildflowers. “Is this one of your pranks?” If so, it was unbearably cruel and humiliating.

Brett stepped up beside his son and laid a hand on his shoulder. “It's no prank,” he assured her. He looked heartbreakingly magnificent in the silvery-gray suit and green silk shirtwaist that matched his eyes. His face was shaved smooth; his eyes glowed with an inner light. “Dogie and I had a long talk last night and laid a lot of cards on the table. One of them was deciding that we needed to make an honest woman of you. And honest men of ourselves.”

In front of his men, he knelt on one knee and took her hand in his. “Annie Harper, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

She could hardly speak for the emotion squeezing her chest. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered in agony. Here . . . now . . . in front of his men. . . .

“Because you amaze me like no one ever has, and I can't imagine living the rest of my life without you. Stay with me, Annie. Help me build this place. Spend the rest of our days chasing horses . . .” His voice dropped to an intimate, almost inaudible level. “. . . and our nights making love. Say you'll marry me.”

The temptation to say “yes” was almost unbearable. There'd been a time when raising horses, building a ranch, and loving a good man had been her sole joy, comfort and purpose. It had also been her destruction. She'd not let it be his. “I can't marry you, Brett.”

The silence lay heavy as lead around them.

“Can't, or won't?” he asked.

Even if she could find her voice through the thickness in her throat, she didn't know to answer. Can't implied cowardice; won't, willfulness. Neither really applied. She started past him, each step a brittle effort.

Brett's strong, solid hand on her arm stopped her in mid-stride.

“Is it because of the stallion?” he asked. “Annie, I was a fool to think even for an instant that you were going to steal him—”

She shook her head but refused to look at him. “I would have thought the same thing in your position.”

“Then what is it? Give me one good reason why.”

Tears stung her eyes. How could she tell him how afraid she was of losing him? How afraid it made her to think of the day he'd see her for the thief she was and turn away from her in loathing? Or worse, someone making him pay for her past sins? “Because some things just aren't meant to be.” Knowing if she didn't leave now she'd disgrace herself in front of everyone, she pleaded in a whisper, “Let me go, Brett.”

“Not on your life. I made the mistake of doing that once; I won't make that mistake again. I've looked for you in every woman I've met, and now that I've found you I'm not ever going to let you go.”

She lifted anguished eyes to his. “You have no choice.”

She rushed down the steps and past the men standing with hats in their hands and bare heads bowed, toward the stables where Chance would be waiting.

“Annie!” She heard Brett's boots hit the steps. “Damn you, don't do this!”

“Let her go Ace. She don't want to be with you.”

“Get out of my way, Wade Henry.”

“No. You'll have to go through me.”

Dogie stepped forward. “And me.”

Then Flap Jack. “And me.”

Even Emilio joined them to stand up for Annie against him.

“Get the
hell
out of my way.” He tried dodging past them. The strength of three men converged on him, grabbing each arm and hooking him around the waist. Annie kept walking, each step putting another crack in her heart.

Then softly, his voice carried across the distance. “He's gone, Annie.”

She came to a sudden stop.

“He's not coming back.”

She pressed her fingers to her mouth to stifle a sob.

“But I'm here, and I love you. And you love me. Stop punishing me for it. Stop punishing yourself.”

Is that what she was doing? Punishing herself for falling in love again? For wanting to live again?

“Look at me,” Brett beckoned.

Oh, God . . .

“Annie, look me in the eye and tell me you feel nothing for me.”

Knowing she shouldn't, she turned around. The love in Brett's eyes reached out to touch her, to warm her, to fill her empty, aching, so desperately lonely heart with bittersweet longing.

And Annie was lost.

“Have you forgotten that there's a bounty on my head?” she asked.

“I haven't forgotten.” The men released their hold on him. He gradually closed the distance between them, his eyes never leaving hers. “And I'll take care of it. Will you trust me to do that?”

Annie couldn't help a watery chuckle. Leave it to Brett to think he could dictate their way out this one. Then again, if anyone could, Brett could.

“Even if by some miracle you managed to save my skin, you have no idea what kind of trouble you're asking for. I can't cook. I can't clean. I can't even give you babies.”

“We'll hire a cook, we'll hire a maid, and we've got Dogie.” He brushed her hair out of her eyes, his touch so tender she nearly wept. “I don't deserve a beauty like you, and you don't deserve a bastard like me. But for as long as I live, I will need and cherish and desire only you. And you'll never be more loved by anyone, Annie. I'll remind you every second of every day.”

It was all Annie could do to keep from throwing herself into his arms. Did she dare take such a risk?

Buck up, Annie; it's time to ride.

Her eyes clenched shut as Sekoda's voice echoed through her heart and caressed her soul. She could picture him shouting the words from the back of his horse, or from the corral fence, or in the privacy of their bedroom. . . .

And she realized that Koda never would have wanted her to deny herself happiness should she be lucky enough to find it again. He'd want her to seize it with both hands and hold onto every precious second it lasted. And if she didn't accept Brett's offer now, she'd spend every breathing moment regretting it. “Are you sure you're willing to take your chances on a woman willing to take a chance on life—and love—again?” she asked.

“Happily. As long as the woman is you and the man is me.”

 

The simple ceremony took place on the front gallery, with all the Triple Ace hands in attendance. Dogie stood in as best man. Even Jesse Justiss arrived in time to hear the I-do's, and before she could say Blue Fire, she'd been pronounced Brett's wife.

No sooner were the vows spoken than Brett leaned down to whisper, “I need to talk to Jesse a moment. I'll meet you upstairs.”

Standing at the window of the room she would share with Brett, Annie tried on her new name the way most women tried on dresses, turning it this way and that way: Annie Corrigan. Annie Harper Corrigan. Mrs. Brett Corrigan.

What in hell had she done?

Annie didn't fool herself into thinking that Jesse had ridden up from Sage Flat to attend their wedding, just as she knew that Ike Savage would not be the only outlaw under discussion. The impression was cinched when the door opened a short while later and a grave silence entered the room. She didn't have to look to know that her husband stood in the doorway, just as he didn't have to tell her of the outcome of his meeting.

Tomorrow, she would pay the piper.

Annie glanced down at the gold band Brett had placed on her finger barely an hour ago. A heart twined around a single diamond big enough to poke a man's eye out. “The ring is beautiful,” she said in an effort to delay the inevitable news. “I've never worn one before.”

“Not even Sekoda's?”

“Comanche don't exchange rings. He about pitched a fit when I wanted a preacher to marry us.” She laughed at the memory. Astonishingly enough, for the first time in what felt like forever, it didn't hurt to think of him.

The laughter faded when Brett walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Jesse wants to arrange a meeting with the U.S. Marshals tomorrow.”

Annie almost cried. “So soon?” But she held her tongue, and only nodded. “I guessed as much.” She leaned back against Brett and absorbed the solid length of him. “If anything happens to me, I want Dogie to have Chance. He'll take good care of her.”

His embrace tightened. “Nothing's going to happen.”

“You don't know that, and neither do I.” She fell silent a moment, then her fears spilled forth as if a damn had busted. “What if I hang? What if I go to prison? Or worse, what if by some cruel stroke of fate I get off scot-free, and someone comes gunning for you?”