Teddy awoke to find the dawning sky streaked with crimson. She thought of blood and death and felt such an ache in her heart that it seemed the weight of the heavens had descended on her. Her first thought was that she wanted to pull her bedroll blanket over her head and stay where she was until the hurt eased, if it ever did.
In short order, though, curiosity overcame Teddy’s misery. She heard the crackle of a campfire and the sizzle of bacon and smelled the tantalizing aroma of coffee brewing. Briefly she wondered if Rope had recouped enough to be up and preparing breakfast.
But how could he? Rope would be a mass of stiff muscles and aching parts and would probably need assistance getting to his feet. Which meant, she feared, as she slowly eased the blanket off her face, that she was about to be indebted to Rhys for one more thing.
Sure enough it was the handsome Frenchman squatting before the licking flames of the small fire and flipping bacon in a blackened skillet. Somehow in the midst of the desert he had achieved that well-groomed look that seemed a part of him. He was as cleanly shaved as if his valet had steamed and attended his face. His dark hair was as sleekly combed as if he’d spent half an hour brushing it into place. His crisp white linen shirt was half open down his chest and his sleeves were rolled to the elbows. There was a casual elegance to his appearance. She could hear him humming a soft melody as he tended the meal he was preparing.
An unwarranted warmth stole over Teddy. She remembered how good his arms had felt, how his demanding kisses had swept away her senses, how being locked in his embrace had made her feel that nothing mattered. How easy it would be to lose herself in those stirringly sensual feelings, and forget she had a mountain of cares and responsibilities.
Rhys Delmar was polish and style, the kind of man she used to daydream about when she was a silly young girl who believed dashing princes rode in on chargers and rescued damsels in distress. Teddy gave a troubled sigh and rubbed the backs of her hands over her eyes. Something had gone wrong with the fairy tale. Instead of Prince Charming she had gotten the prince of mayhem. Rhys Delmar hadn’t ridden in to rescue her. He had come to rob her of the things she held most dear. Just her luck. And damn him to everlasting hell for making her wish he was the other kind of prince.
Slowly, irritably, she rolled clear of her bedroll and got up. “Anything worth eating in that pan?” she asked.
Rhys twisted around to look at Teddy as she stretched her long limbs. Mon Dieu. She was beautiful in the morning, her hair in silky tangles, her eyes lazy with sleep. Heat struck him, flying straight to his loins as he recalled the wonder of holding her, the sweetness of her mouth, the softness and warmth of her flesh. The unattainable Teddy. For now.
“To be sure,” he said. “Bacon, an omelet seasoned—”
“A what?”
“Omelet,” he said the word slowly. “Eggs whipped frothy and cooked slowly.”
“I know what an omelet is.” Teddy, hopping from one foot to the other, pulled on her tight fitting boots. “Where did you get eggs?”
“Birds of the field” he said cheerfully, and turned back to his cooking.
Her feet softly striking the ground she came up behind him and suspiciously looked over his bent back at what he’d prepared. Eggs indeed. He’d robbed a nest somewhere and made a sunny omelet that was sprinkled with herbs plucked from a few carefully selected shrubs. She usually managed to scorch bacon but he had obviously taken his time, slicing the rasher into thick strips then cooking them to crisp perfection. Her stomach tightened reminding her she was hungry.
“Looks passable,” she said, ever-stingy with praise for the Frenchman. “I’ll take coffee to Rope. See how he’s feeling.”
“He’s got coffee and he’s eaten,” Rhys told her. “And he is feeling better.”
“I’ll ask him that myself,” she retorted, annoyed that he was up ahead of her, already had the day in hand and was cheerful to boot.
“Not now.” Rhys shook his head. “He’s—ahh—”
Teddy spotted Rope’s empty bedroll. Quickly comprehending that Rope had sought a few minutes of privacy and wouldn’t appreciate being disturbed, she dropped down cross-legged beside the curling flames of the fire and poured steaming coffee in a tin cup. She took a sip of the hot brew as Rhys dished out a portion of the omelet and a few slices of the bacon. He gave her the plate he’d served then poured coffee and prepared a plate for himself.
“This is good,” she admitted after sampling the omelet. “I wouldn’t have thought—”
“That much was obvious,” Rhys interrupted, his cheerful expression vanishing. “Just what do you think of me, Teddy? I would like to know.”
“Well, you’re...you’re...” Further perturbed, she grappled for an answer. Most of her negative opinions of Rhys Delmar had been dashed down as untrue. She couldn’t fault his looks, or his courage, or even his patience. Nettled, she couldn’t, at the moment, think of one thing to complain about, she took a bite of the eggs. Not even his cooking was second rate. “You’re a bother,” she said at last.
Rhys smiled. A bother. That was progress.
Rope joined them before they were done eating. He dragged his weary body over to the fire and slowly eased down by Teddy.
Teddy smiled as warmly as she could and still keep hidden the worry she had for Rope. “How’s the head?” she asked.
“Feels like somebody exploded powder keg in it,” Rope replied. “And that’s an improvement over yesterday.”
He asked for a refill of coffee. Rhys was quicker than Teddy and poured Rope’s chipped tin cup full.
“We aren’t far from the second station,” Teddy said. “Once we get you there you can rest until today’s stage comes through. From there you can take the coach to Wishbone and see the doc and get patched up proper. Me and...” She paused and started on another tack. “I intend to find that lost coach and salvage the mail bag if I can. Bandits wouldn’t have cared about the letters that didn’t contain money, so maybe most of them are with the coach. I’ve no hope of recovering the mine shipment right off but, believe me, I won’t give up until it’s returned either in gold or blood.”
“We got to let Cabe Northrop know what’s happened,” Rope reluctantly pointed out. “We got an obligation to Wells Fargo to let them know a man’s been killed and a shipment’s been lost.” He turned up his cup and took a big swallow. “Cabe ain’t gonna like it either.”
“Well, hell, who does?” Teddy popped back. “Well, blazes.” She looked accusingly at Rhys. “I reckon I can think of a few of your pals who do.”
Rhys allowed Teddy to vent her anger without comment. She had lost a friend and she was mad at everybody. And she was entitled.
A few minutes later she thrust her tin plate at him and strode off.
Rope spoke up when she was out of earshot. “You got to overlook a lot with Teddy,” he explained. “She’s got more spikes than one of them cactuses.” He gestured to one of the spiny varieties nearby. “But she’s soft-hearted underneath.”
“I take your word for that,” Rhys said quietly as he watched her square her shoulders and hoist a saddle on one of the horses. While she got the other animal ready to ride, he smothered the fire and packed the utensils.
Within minutes the three of them were mounted and traveling farther away from Wishbone to reach the second Gamble change station. Rope, complaining of a headache, rode silently. Teddy, occasionally bumping against Rhys’s back, felt stiff as stove wood.
Her misty eyes were on the ground following the deep-cut track of the missing stage. When they reached a point where the stage had clearly been turned off the road and onto a path that ran due north of the change station, Teddy cursed her luck. Up until that moment she had hoped the horses had taken the empty stage on to the station. Now she knew it had been driven north. She knew, too, that whoever had held up the stage had wanted more than gold. They had wanted to destroy her and the Gamble Line. There was no other explanation for stealing the coach.
Rope muttered a curse. “Teddy, if I was able, we’d go find that coach and who took it,” he said. But his voice shook and both Teddy and Rhys could see that his hands trembled on the reins. He was weak from his injuries, and he’d already been too long in the saddle.
“We ought to give the horses a rest,” Teddy said.
“I can make the station,” Rope said weakly. “Anyways I’d rather stop where I can stay ’cause when I get off this horse I want to stay off.”
“You sure?”
He nodded that he was. The trio rode on a few more miles. Rhys was beginning to wonder if there was anything else out in the distance but rock and cactus, when a shack and a corral appeared against the hazy horizon. The penned horses tramped and neighed as the riders approached. To Teddy’s relief, Rope seemed to perk up the minute the station was in sight. Color reappeared in his ashen face and his voice had strength again.
“That’s Bo Tilton and his brother Jolly you see out by the corral,” he said. Rhys’s eyes followed the fence line to the pair, one husky, one lean and wiry. “Good men.” Rope’s voice faltered with the last pronunciation and the reins went slack in his hands. He’d been holding on with sheer determination and it had just run out.
Putting his heels to the stallion Rhys rode up close and stuck out an arm to steady the wavering rider. With Teddy’s help they kept him in the saddle until they reached the station grounds. The Tilton brothers had seen them riding in and, recognizing the horses, ran out to meet them.
“Gol’ dang, Rope! Looks like you stopped a bullet.” Bo Tilton’s beefy arms helped lower Rope from the saddle.
“Stopped it with that hard skull of his.” Teddy swung off the stallion. “Get him inside and on one of the cots,” she said. “We found him late yesterday. Holdup men left him on the road about halfway between here and Porter’s. Strong Bill’s dead and the coach is missing.”
“Dammit!” Bo Tilton shot one quick questioning look at Rhys, then turned his focus on Rope. With barely a groan of effort he half lifted Rope from the ground as he urged the injured man inside the adobe hut where he and his brother lived. Jolly Tilton threw back the blanket on a cot and Bo lowered Rope to it. Like all the men who worked for Teddy, the Tiltons were loyal and almost as concerned for the survival of the business as she was. “Don’t seem like it could be true, Strong Bill dead. All this trouble.”
“We got to do something about this killing,” Jolly Tilton said. “And these holdups.” The smaller Tilton brother filled a dipper with water from a bucket. Shuffling across the floor, he took the drink to Rope. “Me and Bo and some of the other men could ride out and look for those killers. We got to,” he said emphatically. “Don’t look like we’ll get any help from anywhere else.”
“We will find them,” Teddy said. “I promise you we will. Meanwhile the best thing you and Bo and the other men can do is keep this line running. You leave this station and we’re shut down.”
“Aww, you’re right, Teddy,” Jolly said reluctantly. “But I feel like a dog without a tail to wag sittin’ around waitin’ for another holdup.”
“I’m doubling the guards soon as I can get the word through.” Teddy pulled off her dusty hat and wiped her brow with the back of her arm. “You tell the boys on today’s run to be watching for trouble. And,” she added, “see that Rope gets on that stage to Wishbone.”
“What about you?” Bo had pulled Rope’s boots off and made sure he was resting comfortably as possible. But he had been listening to the exchange between Teddy and his brother and he kept an eye on the stranger who had ridden in with Teddy. When Rope was settled, Bo stared suspiciously at Rhys. “And who’s this fellow?”
Teddy spoke up before Rhys could explain his presence and set Bo at ease. “I’ll keep looking for that missing coach,” Teddy told Bo. “Or I’d be riding shotgun on today’s run.” She glanced over at Rope who was well into getting some of the rest he needed. Soft snores came from the sleeping man. “Rope will be feeling better when he wakes up. Even with that nick on his head he can still shoot so he can back up the guard if there is trouble.”
“And him?” Bo put his big frame between Teddy and Rhys and insisted on knowing about the stranger. “He with you or...”
“I am with her,” Rhys said, his hackles up that the big man had taken a defensive stance toward him.
“He’s Delmar,” Teddy said.
“Aww.” Bo thrust out a big, rough-skinned hand. “I ought to have known. Strong Bill was talkin’ about you yesterday. Said you wasn’t a half-bad fellow.”
“Nor was he.” Rhys shook Bo’s hand and felt the bone-crushing strength in the big man’s grip. Rhys, remembering how Strong Bill had spoken up for him from the first day he’d arrived in Wishbone, meant what he said. “We buried him the best that we could,” Rhys said.
Bo nodded solemnly.
“Well, if there’s going to be any justice for Strong Bill I had better get going,” Teddy said, walking out into the bright sun with Bo. Jolly and Rhys came along directly behind them.
“Now?” Bo asked.
“Now,” Teddy replied. She headed for the corral where they had tied up the stallion and the mare. “Our horses are played out. I’m going to need one of your mounts to go on.”
“Two mounts,” Rhys said. “She is not going on alone.”
“I’m danged glad of that,” Jolly Tilton spoke up while Teddy stared oddly at Rhys. “But look up there, Teddy.” The wiry stock-tender motioned to the ragged line of the mountains far to the north. “Looks like there’s a storm in the makin’,” he said. “And like it could be movin’ this way.”
Teddy stood silently for a few moments looking grimly at the darkening clouds above the sharp, bare peaks. To Rhys the clouds looked too far away to be any threat to them.
“We’ll have to chance it,” Teddy insisted. She began unfastening the mare’s saddle girth.
Bo moved her aside and took over the familiar task. Jolly grabbed a couple of bridles from a shed and slipped through the parched rails of the corral. He caught the two saddle horses he and his brother kept penned with the coach animals. They were bay geldings. Neither was as fine a mount as Demon or Dune, but both looked long on stamina. Bo saddled the animals while Jolly got fresh supplies and water for Teddy and Rhys.
Teddy, impatient to be on the trail, swung into the saddle before Jolly was back. Rhys was about to mount, when Bo caught him tightly by the shoulders. “You look out for Teddy,” he said bringing his heavy bass voice down to a whisper. “You see she gets back here safe.”
“I guard her with my life,” Rhys answered swiftly, softly, surprising himself with the passion and conviction of his reply. He would guard Teddy with his life, but the desire to do so had stolen unforeseen upon him. What had started out as simple desire, a wish to conquer a challenging woman—his lust to take her to bed—had become something more. He wondered where it would lead.
Teddy, saddlebags and canteen full, put her heels to the borrowed gelding. “Get a move on, will you? Those bandits aren’t waiting for you to poke around all day.”
Rhys mounted his horse and urged the animal to a gallop until he could escape the trail of dust Teddy had left as she rode out. “Teddy, wait,” he called to her. She never looked back. Heartless woman. She did nothing but torment and taunt him. But she did look fine bent over the gelding’s neck, as her firm derriere bounced up and down in the saddle.
Without warning his loins tightened. She did have a way of setting him afire at the most inappropriate of moments. “Mon Dieu,” he whispered to himself. What was wrong with him? He had begun to care very much—too much—for that impossible woman. He had completely lost his mind. He had come to this rugged place seeking to right his life, not to bog it down with more complications. And yet he had not tried to deter her nor did he turn his horse back. Instead he spurred the animal to a full thundering gallop to close the gap between him and Teddy.
He rode hard, with the wind and dust stinging his face. His lips curled down as he softly cursed Teddy for the spell she had cast over him. With the next breath he cursed himself and wondered what she was leading him into.