Promises Linger (Promise Series) (3 page)

“I haven’t forgotten a thing.”

“Then you know you need me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you do. You need me to run your ranch, just as I need your ranch to fund my amusements.”

“What I need is a man, Brent Doyle, and I’m afraid that requirement leaves you out in the cold.”

“She needs a man in more ways than one,” someone interjected from the sidelines.

Elizabeth bit back the retort that sprang to her lips and let the room’s inhabitants amuse themselves with speculation. She had bigger fish to fry. She searched the room for her friend. When she spotted Old Sam at the bar, she gave him the signal. Before she finished the subtle nod, he was nodding back and rising from his chair. She shifted her grip on the revolver, took a breath and started praying as she followed his progress from the corner of her eye while keeping her gun aimed on Brent. As she suspected, he headed for the table to her right. The closer he got to the stranger with the dark eyes and easy confidence, the harder she prayed. Anyone with a chin that stubborn wouldn’t be easy to sway. And she so needed him to lean her way.

A tap on his shoulder took Asa’s attention away from his whiskey and the show. The first thing he noticed when he turned was the hat. Battered, ragged and sweat-stained, it had definitely seen better days. The face peering from under the Stetson wasn’t in much better shape. It was tanned the same mud brown as the crown and sported more creases than a ten-year-old letter from home. The gleam in the old codger’s faded blue eyes was speculative, making Asa wonder if the man knew of his reputation.

“I’m thinking it’d take a hell of a man to tame a pretty little mustang like that,” the old codger whispered, one lid dropping over his eye in a slow wink.

“At the very least, a brave one,” Asa said by way of response. He took another pull on his whiskey, unable to keep his eyes off the woman. Damn. She was a firecracker under all that tight-ass exterior.

“Elly always did have a bit of a temper.”

Asa shot the older man an amused glance. “A temper is throwing dishes at your husband when he walks though the door. This, this is…” He shook his head. “Hell, I don’t know what this is.”

“I imagine,” the older man chuckled, “Elly has thrown a dish or two in her day.” He swiped the top of his whiskey glass with a filthy sleeve, tossed back the contents, and wiped his bearded mouth with the back of his hand. “It isn’t Elly’s fault she doesn’t let her sweet side show. Coyote Bill brought her up rough.”

Rough wouldn’t be the word Asa would use. Intriguing was more the way he saw her. Strong. A man could go far with a woman like that by his side. “She’s something else.”

“She’s as straight as they come.”

“Her husband’s a fool.”

“I won’t argue the fool part, but he ain’t her husband.”

Asa slid his foot aside as the man punctuated his statement by spitting to the side. With his glass, he indicated Elizabeth. “Is she kin to you ?” he asked.

The old man looked shocked and then amused. “Nah, but it’s not like I’d be ashamed to find out different.” He looked at the last two swallows in the bottle before Asa. “Mind?”

“Go ahead.” The old man didn’t bother with the glass he’d set on the table. He finished the bottle in one swig, and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt before clarifying, “I worked for her Daddy for most of her life.”

“And you’re loyal to her.” Asa didn’t pose it as a question.

“Enough so that I’m giving you the go ahead.”

He said it like Asa should feel honored. “I appreciate it.”

Or at least he would if he had any idea what the man was talking about.

The old man glanced over his shoulder at Elizabeth, gave a nod of his head and then turned back to Asa.

“I thank you for the drink.”

There was something likable about the guy, so Asa nodded and said, “I appreciated the company.”

The old man’s face crinkled into a smile revealing worn yellowed teeth. “I’m sure you will before long.”

Damn. Was everyone in this town squirrelly, Asa wondered, shaking his head as the old man, chuckling at the joke only he understood, disappeared back into the crowd around Elizabeth. Brent’s voice rose over the low murmur of bets being placed, drawing Asa’s attention back to the marital drama unfolding. Dismissing the old man from his mind, he shifted in his seat to get a better view.

“That land is mine and I’m not letting you or any drunken preacher cheat me out of it.”

“Give it up, Brent.”

“Never. Without a man, you can’t hold that ranch.”

Asa sighed, knowing they’d reached the crux of the matter. As much as he admired the woman’s courage, she wouldn’t be able to hold the ranch without a man.

“I’ve thought of that.” Her slightly slanted green eyes turned in his direction. “Are you Asa MacIntyre?”

He dipped his head, so his hat shielded the expression on his face. “Maybe.”

“The same Asa MacIntyre who single-handedly brought in the infamous Crull gang?”

He tucked his chin a little lower, not liking the way the saddle bums in the corner were perking up. He’d come to town to relax. Not to have to battle with wet-behind-the ears kids dead set on establishing a reputation for themselves with his dead body. He was too close to his dream to risk that. “Maybe.”

“The same Asa MacIntyre who headed up the Kingman Drive back in ‘63?”

He sighed, recognizing I-won’t-give-up determination when it stared him in the face. “Yeah.”

Elizabeth’s voice shook for the moment it took her to ask the next question. “The same Asa MacIntyre who stopped the blacksmith from beating little Willy Jones yesterday?”

He found it interesting that her composure broke on that question. He sat up straighter in his chair and pushed his hat back off his face. “Yeah, that’s me.”

One shuddering breath and her face became as blank as her inflection. “Word has it you’re looking to buy a small spread around here.”

“If you’re about to offer me the Rocking C, I got to tell you, it’s way out of my pocket. I’m looking for something smaller, around a couple hundred acres.”

And it’d taken him all of fifteen years to save the money for that dream. Fifteen years of working cattle, hauling in bounties, and busting his butt, doing any job that would yield close to an honest buck.

“But, if you could afford it, you’d be interested?”

“Sorry, ma’am.” He tipped his hat in her direction. Lord, that woman had guts. “As tempting as the prospect is, there’s no way I could stretch my earnings to cover a couple thousand acres.” But he would someday. He would. And when he did, no man would look down his nose at him, spit when he passed, or keep their daughters from his company.

“What if I said it wouldn’t cost you anything?”

He pushed his glass away. “Then I’d say there was something fishy about this deal. Especially as the ownership of this property is in some dispute.”

“If you agree to my terms, there’ll be no dispute.”

“Pardon me, but I don’t think you can guarantee that.”

“Jesse Graham assures me that my legal husband will have full and complete title to the land.”

“It would appear to me you already have more husbands than you know what to do with.”

“I know exactly what to do with Brent, Mr. MacIntyre. The question is, do you know what to do with the Rocking C?”

“I know what to do with it. I’m just going to have to think on it.”

“Please, reach a decision quickly.”

“I’ll do the best I can.” He raised his glass of whiskey, noted the nearly indiscernible tremor in his hand, and took a steadying sip. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! First, the Crull brothers and their hefty bounty had fallen into his hands like ripe plums and now this! He was on a lucky streak, for sure.

“Mr. MacIntyre?”

“I’m ruminating as fast as I can.”

“Perhaps if you confided your reservations, I could help you reach a decision.” When he didn’t respond, she prodded some more. “It’s true we’ve had problems with rustlers recently, but I’m sure, once the men have someone they respect in charge, the rustlers will leave the Rocking C alone and search for easier game.”

“I’m not worried about rustlers, ma’am. No matter what a man has, there’s always someone looking to take it away.”

“Is it Brent then? I assure you he has no legal claim.”

Asa smiled, shooting the now quiet man a disgusted glare. “That little piss-ant isn’t worth the effort it would take to squash him.”

“Surely you’re not afraid of marriage?” she asked in patent disbelief.

Asa sighed. “I’m afraid you found me out, ma’am.”

“But marriage is nothing more than a piece of paper to a man. It doesn’t curtail any of your rights! As a matter of fact, you gain quite a few.” Her fine lips thinned as she conceded. “Over me.”

“And that’s an awful lot of responsibility for one man to own.” He looked pointedly at the gun in her hand. “You don’t appear the cooperative type.”

“That’s your problem?”

“Yup.” He took a last sip of his whiskey. Lord! If he took this woman for wife, not only would he have the biggest ranch around, but any children he had would have a lady for a mother, guaranteeing they’d grow up respected. “This territory is a dangerous place. One of the prime qualities I plan on looking for in a wife is the ability to stay put when I tell her to.”

“You want my obedience.”

“Wouldn’t go amiss.”

“You have it.”

“Have what?”

“My obedience.”

Still that same deadpan expression backing that deadpan voice. What would it take to rattle this woman? “Well, I thank you, and as soon as I decide whether to take you up on the deal, I’ll be asking for your word on it.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d hurry up.”

He wondered if she was afraid of the gambler. “Why?”

“My arms are getting tired.”

And here he thought she’d admit to something like fear. He laughed at his own idiocy and rolled to his feet. In three strides, he was at her side. “Well, put the gun down, darlin’. I think I can keep this varmint contained for you.”

He had her full attention. “You’ll marry me? You’ll take on the Rocking C?”

“You’re promising me obedience if I do?”

“I promise.”

“Then I’m considering it.” He caught a whiff of vanilla through the smell of smoke and sweat. Like a breath of spring after a long hard winter, the scent swept from her to him, uncovering longings he’d thought permanently snowed under.

“I’ve always had a hankering to take myself a genuine lady for a wife,” he admitted. “Always thought it’d be out of my reach, though. Sorta like a spread the size of the Rocking C.”

And that was more than the truth. It’d been his furthest out-there dream, and now it was standing before him, chin up, eyes shooting fire, determination oozing from every pore, tossing out invisible challenges like swear words at a cussing match.

“But now?” she prompted.

He smiled at her hearing that “but” when he hadn’t really meant her to. He took the gun from her hand, noticing what a little bit of a thing she was now that he was close. Her head barely reached his collarbone.

“Now, it appears the good Lord’s working on one of those miracles I’ve heard tell of, but, before we shake on this deal, there are a few things you’ve got to understand.” He uncocked the gun and emptied the chamber, using his side vision to keep tabs on her expression. “First, trouble has a way of following me.”

The corners of her lips lifted in a hint of a smile. “It doesn’t exactly go out of its way to miss me.”

He looked at her shiner and the situation she was in. “You got a point there.” He handed the gun and bullets back to its owner.

Brent obviously felt he’d been quiet long enough. He made to get up. “As touching as I find this moment, wife, you can’t give away what’s not yours.”

Brent got to his knees. This close, it was impossible for Asa to miss Elizabeth’s slight start.

With his foot, Asa shoved the man back down. “Shut up.”

He slid his gloved finger under Elizabeth’s chin and turned her gaze to his. “Second, what’s mine, stays mine.”

“I won’t take the Rocking C from you as long as you do your best by it.”

He smiled. She was a determined little thing. “Fair enough.”

“Third,” he gently traced the bruise around her right eye, “I take care of my own.”

She had nothing to say to that.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked quietly, wishing he weren’t wearing gloves so he could feel the texture of her skin, memorize it the way he’d already memorized her scent.

“No.” Her gaze didn’t leave his. Her pupils were large, nearly swallowing the green. Her breath hitched in her throat when he slid one finger down her cheek and traced the delicate underside of her chin.

“Good. Go wait for me outside the door.”

Her gaze slid to his table where one of the saloon girls had taken a seat. “Why?”

“I thought you promised me obedience?” She opened her mouth and then closed it. Taking her shoulders, he turned her in the direction of the door. “Wait for me outside.”