Riding West (13 page)

For a moment the loutish Reed looked surprised and taken aback by her defiant protective stance and the less-than-ladylike threat, but then his eyes narrowed into glittering slits. “This ain‘t your business, young lady.”

“No?” Celia was so furious she could barely speak. “The moment you struck a woman holding a baby, you made it my business. You are a coward and a lowdown drunk. I can smell you from here, and it isn‘t at all pleasant. I suggest you leave right this minute before one of my brothers comes in. Go home, take a bath and sober up.”

“The Evans boys don‘t scare me none, but sure, I‘m goin‘. With my wife.” He jerked his head sideways. “Alice, move it.”

“No, she‘s staying,” Celia countered. “She hasn‘t finished her shopping.”

“Listen, Miss Evans, you are starting to rile me.”

“It‘s Mrs. West,” she said coolly, tilting her chin and looking him squarely in the eye. “And quite frankly, I don‘t care about you in any way.”

He raised his fist, his face contorting. Celia braced for the blow, knowing he was more than capable of doing it, though if he were sober he hopefully wouldn‘t ever be so foolish.

A voice rang out, cold as ice. “I wouldn‘t. Do it and you‘re a dead man, Reed.”

John.
Well, it was about time
, Celia thought with relief as the man in front of her lowered his hand and went rigid.

Her brother walked slowly toward them, tall and wide-shouldered, the low jingle of his spurs audible in the sudden silence. His gaze swept over the tableau, assessing Celia‘s strategic position between Alice Reed and her husband, and something settled into his expression that made Celia take a deep breath. Her brother was slow to anger, but when he truly lost his temper, it was an impressive display.

“You strike your wife?” John asked between his teeth. His eyes looked like two blue chips of ice.

Behind her, Alice made a small sound, like a moan of despair. Reed blustered, “What if I did? This ain‘t yer interfering sister‘s affair, and it ain‘t yours, Evans.”

“Like hell it isn‘t.” John didn‘t take his eyes from the man, who now looked a little green under his untidy beard. “Celia, take Mrs. Reed and the children outside. Have Jared escort you to the buckboard. They‘ll be coming home with us. I‘ll be there in a few minutes.”

Glad enough to obey, because she had a feeling what happened next was not going to be pleasant, she nodded. Quickly, she took the infant from Alice‘s shaking arms. “Come on,” she said reassuringly as they started for the door, cradling the child who stared up at her with wide blue eyes. “Everything will be fine.”

The corner of her mouth bleeding, Alice glanced back, trembling. “John is going to kill him. He isn‘t armed, I don‘t want—”

Celia interrupted tersely. “How can you worry over him when he treats you so terribly?”

Alice Reed looked at her with tearful dark eyes and her expression momentarily tightened. “I meant that I don‘t want John to be charged with murder because Harold doesn‘t have a weapon. Believe me, Mrs. West, it isn‘t my husband I‘m worried over. I‘ve been concerned all along it would come to this.”

That seemed to be a strange statement. Celia looked at the child she held and took in a quick breath, seeing the shock of thick fair hair and having a sudden glimmer of what the pretty Mrs. Reed might mean.

Jared waited for them outside, an unmistakable look of astonishment on his lean face as she emerged from the store without any purchases, but instead a bleeding woman and three children. “Mind telling me what‘s going on? John went in to fetch you. Where is he?”

Celia shook her head, seeing with relief the dusty street was fairly empty. “Ask him later, will you? In the meantime, go inside and make sure he doesn‘t kill anyone. We‘ll wait at the wagon.”

Jared flashed his reckless smile and shook his blond head. He muttered, “I told John and Josh bringing you along was just asking for trouble.”

———

The fight had been short but satisfying.

He stood over the prone body of the man he despised more than any on this earth, and felt fury seep from his veins like a drug. Reed was no longer moving, collapsed in a tumble of fallen boxes, blood running freely from his mouth and nose. John looked up and saw Jared a few feet away, looking nonchalant and laconic, a slight grin on his mouth. His younger brother said, “I thought you said it would be a nice, peaceful trip to town. Celia sent me in to make sure you didn‘t kill anyone. Is he dead? ‘Cause I sure as hell don‘t want her mad at me.”

“He‘s not dead,” John muttered in disgust. “The drunken fool didn‘t even throw a punch.” He glanced up and said, “I‘ll pay for any damages, Tom, you know that. Just add it to my tab.”

Delarney ambled out from behind the counter, his sizable bulk precluding any fast movement. “Don‘t worry about it, son. It needed doing and if I was about twenty years younger, I‘d have done it myself. You boys carry this piece of refuse out and dump him in the street, will you? I don‘t need him trashing up my place and bleeding all over. You get him out of my store and we‘re even.”

“That‘s decent of you.” John bent and grabbed Reed‘s shoulders and Jared took his feet. None too gently, they dragged him outside and tumbled him into the dusty street. John looked at his younger brother and saw the open curiosity there with resignation. “Alice is going home with me. Where she belongs.”

“I gathered that, somehow, from the way Celia herded them all toward the buckboard.” Jared looked noncommittal, but added quietly, “I guess I‘m not surprised. I knew there was someone—both Josh and I did. We talked about it, but hell, it‘s your private business.”

“Did you see the baby?” John asked, now that the first wave of anger had passed, feeling both relieved and released now that things had come to a head. “He‘s mine, Jared.”

“I saw him.” Jared tipped his hat back. “So I‘m an uncle, huh? That‘ll take some getting used to but I figure it‘s a fine thing.”

“Yeah, well, the way Parker and Celia stay in bed half the day, you‘d better get adjusted to it. Come on, I bought all the ammunition they had in stock. Let‘s get it and the women back to the ranch.”

As they walked down the street, John glanced around, wondering if Colter had any other men in town. He‘d guess there would be at least a few, and Celia‘s interference in the Reed‘s quarrel would not go unnoticed.

A small smile curved his mouth. His sister was a lot of things, among them headstrong, independent and stubborn, but she had spirit and a fierce sense of right and wrong. When he had walked into that store and realized what was going on, he‘d felt both furious and grateful. The way she stood there, just daring Reed to hit her, well, it might not be the bravest thing he‘d ever seen, but it was damned close.

Alice sat on the seat of the vehicle, her dark eyes haunted as she watched him and Jared approach. He met her gaze head-on, and noted the small crust of blood and her swollen lower lip with as much detachment as possible. Celia sat in back with the children, still holding his son. He saw from her speculative look that she just might have figured a few things out.

Good. It saved him an explanation. He‘d have enough of those when he arrived home and told his parents what was going on. He didn‘t have any doubts that his mother and father would welcome Alice and the children, but he‘d been keeping secrets a long time.

That was all over.

Without a word, he climbed up next to Alice as Jared and Josh swung onto their horses. Then he gently slapped the reins and they moved forward.

Between getting to beat the hell out of Harold Reed and his brief meeting with the young outlaw who worked for Colter, it had been a satisfying afternoon.

———

Parker rubbed his forehead in frustration. “I‘m not precisely angry, Celia.”

“You act angry.” His beautiful wife unbuttoned her gown as she spoke, her slim fingers slipping each fastening free. “Or as angry as I‘ve ever seen you save for at our wedding, though I can‘t figure out why. Since you rode in, you‘ve barely spoken to me.”

He watched her slip her dress off her shoulders as she readied for bed. “I‘m bone tired from herding cattle all day. Then I come in to hear you were involved in some confrontation in town in which you actually could have been hurt. I agreed you could go because your brothers would be with you, looking out for things. I guess I thought you‘d have the sense to stay out of trouble. Obviously giving my permission was a bad idea.”

Clad only in her lace-trimmed shift, Celia tossed back her loose hair and gave him a furious look. “Don‘t act like I‘m some sort of child you have to be responsible for, Parker West. And for your information, Harold Reed was slapping his wife around in front of me while she was holding a baby. Her children were crying, and he‘d hit her so hard her mouth was bleeding. I hate to disappoint you, but I was not going to just stand there.”

“He could have done the same to you, Celia. He‘s a mean drunk, and he‘s a hell of a lot bigger than you are. If he hurt you, I‘d have to go after him, and I‘ve got to tell you, I have a feeling there‘s going to be plenty of killing without throwing in another feud on top of it.”

“I can fight my own battles, don‘t worry. If he
had
hit me, it probably would have been the mistake of a lifetime. As it is, I suspect John more than took care of the problem.”

As usual, riding herd on a bunch of ornery cows was nothing to managing his lovely spitfire of a wife. When he heard what happened, he couldn‘t help but admire her nerve, but most certainly was unhappy over the fact she‘d stepped straight into the path of an abusive bully. Every time he thought about it he got angry again because her impulsiveness frightened him to death.

He loved her too much to let anyone harm a hair on her head, and worrying over Colter was bad enough.

“Until further notice, that‘s your last trip to town,” he said with imprudent authority. “Don‘t even bother to ask me.”

Half-undressed, with the glory of her unbound hair in a golden mass around her face and bared shoulders, Celia gave him a glare that rivaled a cornered mountain lion. “Go to hell, Parker. I‘m your wife, not your prisoner.”

He was glad their bedroom door was firmly shut, and hopefully his parents were already asleep down the hall and couldn‘t hear the argument. “If I have to keep warning you about your language, sweetheart, you‘re going to regret it.” He sat down in a chair to take off his boots.

“If you think you‘re sleeping here, think again,” Celia informed him, her cheeks pink with affront. “I‘m not interested in bedding down with a narrow-minded ogre who treats me as if I haven‘t a lick of sense.”

Unperturbed, he neatly set aside his boots and proceeded to unfasten his shirt. “I‘m sleeping right here with you.”

“I‘m sure they‘d welcome you in the bunkhouse.” Her tone was saccharine with sarcasm.

“I‘m sure you‘ll welcome me just fine, my sweet wife.”

“I‘m not going to fuck you, if that‘s what you‘re thinking. Right now, I don‘t even
like
you.” She stood on the other side of the bed, her chin tilted upward and her blue eyes flashing fire.

God, she was beautiful and desirable as hell.

God, she had quite a sassy mouth.

“You really love to push me, don‘t you?” Parker jerked his shirt off over his head, leaving it half buttoned. “And for your information,” he dropped his tone to a husky, suggestive whisper, “you don‘t have to like me for it to feel good.”

He had really thought he was too damn tired to make love to her, but his cock had decided otherwise the minute she had started to undress. He was hard, pulsing, and when he deliberately shoved his pants down his hips, it jutted upward in an obvious declaration of his intentions.

“Will you force me?” She eyed his rampant erection. “Because I‘m not interested, Parker.”

Like hell she wasn‘t, and he didn‘t miss the flicker of excitement that crossed her face, no matter how much she tried to hide it. From past experience at the cabin, he knew she liked it if he acted like he was going to give her no choice, though he was sure she knew down deep he wouldn‘t make her do anything she didn‘t want to in bed. “I might,” he lied, moving around the bed in slow steps. “Are you going to fight me?”

“I‘ll scream,” Celia informed him, backing up as he advanced, still clad in her chemise.

He grinned. “I know. You always do.”

“I mean it. Your parents will hear.”

“That‘s fine with me. What? Do you think they‘ll come running? I doubt it, not if our bedroom door is closed.” He crowded her into the corner on the other side of the bed and placed an arm on either side of her shoulders. “You see, sweetheart, as your husband, I‘ve got certain rights.”

That infuriated her, but he had known it would. Celia shoved at his bare chest and looked adorably irritated. “You can be an arrogant ass, Parker West, though most people don‘t see it.”

In response, he captured her hands and pushed them up above her head, his body pressing hers against the wall. He rubbed his stiff cock against the warmth and softness of her body through her chemise and inhaled her fragrance. Lowering his head, he whispered suggestively in her ear. “I bet you‘re already wet, Celia.”

She kicked him in the shin, and he winced, but didn‘t let her go. Instead he transferred her slim wrists to one hand and with the other delved beneath the short hem of her shift. She squirmed in resistance and made a small sound as his fingers slid between her legs.

Sure enough, she was wet, hot and ready. He slipped two fingers all the way in, exploring her vaginal passage with leisurely thoroughness, amused and aroused as she parted her thighs even as defiance sparked in her gaze. “Go fuck yourself, Parker, and leave me alone.”

Okay, well if the lady wanted outrageous language and the pretense of resistance, he‘d give it to her.

“No thanks, I‘d rather fuck you,” he said calmly, and in one swift movement picked her up and deposited her on the bed. She tried to roll away but he caught her easily and settled on top of her, using his weight to keep her pinned to the bed while being careful not to crush her in any way. Celia gave him a mutinous look, but her cheeks were flushed becomingly, and he could feel the tight points of her nipples against his chest through the thin cloth of her chemise.