Safe in His Arms, Page 2

  She had begun to find her composure, but at her father’s words, blood rushed to her face. They didn’t need to air their disagreements in front of this stranger. Pa had never understood how his words burned her spirit like a brand. She never let on how he hurt her, and she didn’t now. She narrowed her eyes at this stranger who was set to disrupt her life.

  Daniel Cutler seemed to be taking it all in with interest, and a small smile played around those firm lips of his. He probably agreed wholeheartedly with her father’s assessment. Like all the rest of the men in her acquaintance, he would be looking for some dainty young thing with a simpering smile and golden curls.

  She tossed her head and glared at him. His smile faltered, and she felt a stab of satisfaction. “I’m sorry you’ve come all this way for nothing,” she told him. “But we really don’t need a foreman. Not you and not Calvin.”

  “The thing’s done,” her father said. “Toss your belongings into our wagon, Daniel. We’ll head back to the ranch as soon as we get this feed loaded.”

  She caught her breath at her father’s blatant dismissal. “Pa . . .”

  He held up his hand. “Enough, Margaret. Daniel is here. Zip your tongue and help get the wagon loaded.”

  I will not cry. Biting her lip, she walked to the back of the wagon.

  Daniel threw his satchel into the wagon. He didn’t wait to be asked but went to the pile of feed sacks and began loading them. His muscular arms handled the heavy bags with ease. For a moment Margaret stared at the muscles in his back as they rippled beneath his shirt. In spite of her dislike of the man, he was a fine specimen of masculinity. Other women strolling by paused and cast surreptitious glances his way. Glances he seemed not to notice.

  She helped load the sacks, but he threw the heavy bags into the back twice as quickly, with not even a labored breath. She bristled at his strength. He was probably trying to show her up in front of her father. She’d teach him she didn’t need his help—not for loading feed and not for running the ranch.

  She and Daniel worked side by side for several minutes until all she could smell was burlap. Daniel tossed the last of the feed into the wagon and turned to her with a grin. “What now, Boss?”

  Boss. The way he said the word with a hint of mockery made her grimace. Just as she opened her mouth to put him in his place, shots rang out down the street. Five men, their revolvers blasting at anything that moved, rushed out of the bank and mounted their horses. The horses came thundering toward Margaret.

  “Get down!” Daniel tackled her to the dusty ground.

  The breath puffed out of her as he fell on top of her. She struggled to free herself, but his strong body kept her pinned beneath him. She could smell the clean scent of soap underneath the scent of his skin. Never in her life had she felt so helpless and dependent. And protected. The word whispered through her brain with a gentle allure.

  FRANK WAS GOING to ruin everything with his impatience. It was all Daniel could do to hold his anger in check. “Stay here.” The young woman glared at him, but at least she stayed under the wagon where he’d pushed her.

  He spit the dust from his mouth and rolled out from under the wagon. Shots rang out again, but he didn’t duck back into safety. The gang wouldn’t shoot at him. Slipping along the side of the building, he made his way to the back of the bank. The last person he expected to see was the beautiful blond outlaw staring arrogantly at him from her perch on a palomino.

  “Golda,” he said tightly. Her beauty had stirred him once, made him leave a lucrative job in the Austin area and take up a life of crime.

  “I didn’t expect to see you, Daniel.”

  Her voice was husky with a smoky quality that froze men in their tracks while she devoured them at her leisure. He moved away, reminding himself that he was no longer her prey. “I don’t know why. That was the plan. You moved in too soon, though. I just got here.”

  She shrugged her slim shoulders and urged her horse closer. “You know my brother. Frank likes to keep everyone off kilter. I think he wasn’t sure you’d really show. You’ve been gone awhile, and he’s not sure he can trust you.”

  “I told him I had a place to scout out the banks, and I do. But I’m going to need a little time.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  More shots sounded from out front. “You’d better get out of here.” He didn’t wait for her to call him back because he wasn’t sure of his strength to resist.

  MARGARET WIPED DUST from her tongue. She couldn’t believe she was still crouching here under the wagon. For more years than she could count she had taken care of herself. She wasn’t some squealing miss who ran at the first sign of gunfire. The sooner that bear of a man learned that, the better.

  She rolled out from under the wagon as shots rang out again, followed by the sound of men’s voices.

  Daniel materialized in front of her. “Stay still.” He stared down the street. “I think it’s safe now.”

  He gripped her arm and helped her up as though she were a delicate miss dressed in a fine silk dress. Margaret dusted off her skirt and tried to think of something to say to put him in his place. He ignored her as he stared down the street. Several men ran out of the bank, with the bank president, Orville Parker, bringing up the rear.

  Orville’s cravat was awry, and his black hair stood up in spikes. “Help! We’ve been robbed!” He waved his arms. “Come on, all of you, we have to catch them.”

  The sheriff, freeing his revolver from his holster as he ran, came rushing from the other side of town. “I need all the men who can ride and shoot. We might be able to catch them.”

  Margaret turned to stare at Daniel, but he just stood there placidly as men all around him grabbed horses and guns. She narrowed her eyes at him.

  Then Daniel nodded at her pa. “I reckon I’d best ask your leave to join the posse.”

  Her pa shook his head. “They have enough men, and we need to be getting back to the ranch.”

  Margaret eyed the relief on Daniel’s face. He must be a coward in spite of his hefty size. Why else would he not want to join the chase? If she were a man, she would have been the first one to volunteer. She turned abruptly and began to clamber onto the seat of the wagon, but before she could climb up, Daniel’s large hands spanned her waist and lifted her as though she weighed no more than a feather duster.

  Margaret jerked away from his grip and would have tumbled to the street except for his steadying hands. “I’ve been climbing in and out of this wagon for years by myself,” she snapped. “I don’t need your help.”

  “Just being mannerly, miss.” Curls had escaped Daniel’s hat and lay plastered against his broad forehead.

  The mirth in his dark eyes set her teeth on edge. She would see him fired and gone from her property if it was the last thing she did. She didn’t want him laughing at her every day. Snide smiles behind her back were something with which she was quite familiar, and she didn’t need any more of it from the foreman.

  “Margaret, quit fooling around. We need to get on the road.” Her father climbed up beside her. When Daniel settled next to him, his bulk caused the springs of the wagon to groan.

  Her father’s voice held a trace of petulance, and she knew he was tired and needed to rest. It was selfish of her to make more trouble. She settled herself on the seat and leaned forward to grab the reins, but before she could seize them, Daniel had them in his large fists.

  “Giddup.” He slapped the reins against the backs of the horses, and the wagon lurched forward.

  Caught off guard, Margaret nearly tumbled into the back of the wagon with the feed sacks. She scowled at Daniel, but he didn’t seem to notice. Gripping the side of the wagon, she pressed her lips tightly together.

  She glanced back at Calvin and saw him glaring at the back of Daniel’s head. At least someone else was hankering to get rid of the man. Daniel clearly thought he was the biggest toad in the puddle, but Margaret would soon set him to rights.

  TWO

&nb
sp; Several shacks were scattered round the small clearing where Charlie Cutler poked at the fire, but most of them were empty at this time of day. The gang had scattered to various perches to watch for the posse. Sparks flared into the air and a bit of ash floated aimlessly in the wind. He’d been like that ash with no purpose. But no more. He finally belonged.

  He heard a step behind him and turned to see Golda Munster coming toward him. She had turned every head in camp, and no wonder. Charlie had never seen skin so fair and smooth or lips so full and red. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and neither could the other men. She was ten years older than he was, but he didn’t care. Her silky blond hair and big blue eyes mesmerized him.

  She lifted her blue skirt clear of the mud puddles. A scowl marred her beautiful face. She scowled more often than not. About the only time Charlie had seen her smile was when she was flirting with someone, but it only added to his fascination. Probably most of the gang longed to bring a smile to her face, to see her white teeth gleaming behind painted red lips.

  She settled on a log one of the men had dragged close to the fire. The hem of her skirt was thick with red dirt. “Anything to eat?”

  He grabbed a rag and lifted the skillet from the fire. “Got some flapjacks.”

  She grimaced. “I’m tired of such paltry fare. I’d love a thick beefsteak or poached fish. Just because we’re in camp doesn’t mean we shouldn’t fill our bellies with decent food. I was at the mercantile before the bank robbery, and things were pretty plain there too. Typical of a wide spot in the road like this.” Lifting the lid, she sniffed at the aroma, then wrinkled her nose again. “Who made these?”

  “Your brother.”

  She shrugged and grabbed a tin plate, then forked a flapjack onto it. Charlie watched her take dainty bites. He could watch her for hours, her movements, her expressions. She always left him tongue-tied, but he was here because of her.

  “I remember the first time I ever saw you,” he blurted out. His face burned when she lifted a brow and smiled. “I mean, who wouldn’t. You sauntered onto the porch looking for Daniel, and I told Pa you were the prettiest thing to ever wear a boot. You and your family had just moved in down the road. I was about twelve, I think.”

  Her small white teeth gleamed as she leaned forward. “Do tell me more, Charlie.” Her sly expression said she knew she was fascinating.

  “You never noticed me, since I was a kid, but I’m grown now. I’m a better man than Daniel. And I’d never leave you like he did. I’d follow you anywhere, Golda.”

  She didn’t need to know he had nothing at home to draw him back, not like Daniel. Once Mama was gone, there was nothing holding him in that lonely mansion where he’d been nothing more than a lackey to a demanding father.

  Golda sighed, clearly bored. “I saw your brother today.”

  He straightened. “Where?”

  “In town. He about had a conniption that we hit the bank before he got set up.”

  Charlie leaped to his feet. “He’s rejoined the gang? You’re joshing me.”

  Daniel had disappeared for over a year, and Charlie hadn’t heard from him. Charlie assumed something had happened with Golda, and Daniel had gone slinking back to Austin to their father. Otherwise, Daniel wouldn’t have left her.

  “Of course he has. He can’t stay away from me.”

  If his brother were here, Charlie would have leaped on him and pummeled him. This was his place now. Daniel had no right to come back here. It was all Charlie could do to stand there with his plate in his hands.

  Golda finished her meal and dropped the plate onto the ground. “I thought I heard a ruckus out here earlier.”

  Those big blue eyes on him drove all thought from Charlie’s head, and he struggled to remember the fracas. “You did. Hugh rode in to tell us the posse had all the main roads covered. We’re safe here, though. It’s pretty hidden.”

  She rose and touched his shoulder as she sauntered back to the cabin and went inside. Charlie’s shoulders sagged. She was always doing that. Small pats and caresses that kept him from leaving even though he knew he had no future with her. It was as if she could read his mind.

  A horse neighed nearby and he glanced to the grove of trees to his right. Sunlight hit the clearing, and Richard dismounted from his horse.

  Richard tipped his hat back with a thick forefinger, revealing a thick thatch of gray hair. “You hear how much the haul was today?”

  “Not enough. Frank was pretty grim. Where were you?”

  Richard shrugged. “Frank got a little high on his horse and moved before I arrived. Saw your brother, though, and got a message for you.”

  “There’s nothing Daniel has to say that I want to hear.” Charlie started back to the campfire, but Richard grabbed his arm.

  “You’re acting like a fool,” the older man said, curling his lip. “Now shut up and listen. Daniel wants to meet you before he rejoins the gang.”

  “No.” Charlie jerked his arm away, but Richard blocked his path. “I’m not a kid he can order around. I make my own decisions.”

  “Don’t get all huffy. He just wants to talk.”

  Charlie gritted his teeth. “There’s nothing he can say that I haven’t already heard.” Richard didn’t reply, so Charlie shrugged, an idea beginning to form. “I’ll see him, I guess. When and where?”

  “Friday night. At the river ford.”

  “I’ll be there. What are you going to do? Does Frank know you’re here?”

  “Not yet. I’m going to see him now.” Richard’s sharp gaze pierced him.

  “He’s liable to shoot you for not showing up when you were supposed to.”

  “And I suppose you’d be glad of it? It would leave the way clear for you with Golda.”

  Richard was Golda’s second choice, the man she flirted with when Daniel wasn’t around. Charlie looked down. “I don’t want you hurt. When are you going to see Frank?”

  “Tonight. I’ll be back later.”

  “What about Daniel? When’s he going to show his face? I think Frank’s been watching to make sure neither of you double-cross him.”

  “I’ll let him tell you about his plans when you meet him in two days. I’m just the messenger.”

  Richard mounted his horse and wheeled away. Maybe Charlie would just settle Daniel’s hash when he saw him. Get him out of his hair once and for all. As Charlie went around the bend of the trail, the door to the cabin opened and Golda stepped back outside. She beckoned to him and he was glad to answer.

  SHE WAS A mighty prickly woman, this Margaret O’Brien. Daniel glanced at her from the corner of his eye, then stared straight ahead. Fine figure of a woman, though. She’d give some lucky man sons and daughters worth having if they had her fire and determination. Her red hair and green eyes betrayed her spirit and passion for life. She had no use for him, though, and Daniel couldn’t say he blamed her. He wouldn’t cotton to someone waltzing in and taking over a job he had all picked out for himself either.

  But he had a purpose for being here, and not even a woman like the rancher’s daughter would distract him from it. His mission was too important. He’d just been glad Charlie wasn’t among the robbers who rushed past him.

  Paddy O’Brien pointed out the lane to the ranch, and Daniel turned the horses down it. From here the rolling meadows of Triple T Ranch spread before him. Lush grass for the cattle intermingled with rugged red buttes under the blue skies. The beauty of the place tugged at Daniel’s heart, almost as though he were coming home, although that was ridiculous. He’d never been in this part of Texas. But this Red River Valley was beautiful, no doubt about that. He thought he’d heard a song about it once, but he couldn’t remember the words.

  The ranch house and outbuildings came into view. A low, stuccoed home crouched beneath two cottonwood trees. Several barns and corrals surrounded the home, and he could see herds of longhorns grazing on the hills around the ranch.

  “Mighty pretty place,” he told Paddy.

&nbs
p; Paddy was a big man, though age had stooped his shoulders and shriveled his skin, and he lifted his head high, clearly pleased by the compliment to his life’s work. And rightly so. The Triple T spread out before them in all its bustling glory.

  Daniel cast another glance at Margaret. A smattering of freckles shimmered on her nose, and her chiseled face with its high cheekbones gave her a regal bearing as she glanced around the Triple T. He didn’t doubt she had helped make the ranch a success and had earned that look of proud ownership.

  Her hair was bound in a thick red braid nearly as big around as her wrist. What would it look like released from the confines of the braid, gleaming in the sunshine? Like red fire, most likely. He dragged his thoughts away from the intriguing woman and pulled the team to a halt. His job didn’t entail casting longing eyes at Margaret O’Brien.

  “Margaret, show Daniel to his quarters,” Paddy said.

  Margaret didn’t look at him. She jabbed a finger at the bunkhouse behind the house. “It’s in there.”

  “Margaret,” her father said in a warning tone.

  Her lips compressed, Margaret wheeled around, and her braid flipped Daniel in the face. Her hair left the faint scent of mint in its wake. He suppressed a grin as he followed her across the yard. Her stiff back proclaimed her outrage, but she didn’t say anything. Daniel was sorry for that. He would have liked to listen to her voice some more. Low and throaty. It reminded him of wind in the trees back home.

  She shoved open the door to the bunkhouse and stepped inside. Daniel followed her. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the bright sunshine to the dim coolness of the room. The large room was utilitarian with bunks along the walls. The floor was rough wood and scratched from years of boot heels. Dishes overflowed the dry sink. He’d been in many rooms like this one.

  Margaret stepped to a door on the left side and opened it. “This is the foreman’s room. It’s got a private entrance off the back of the bunkhouse to the privy.”