Deadly Page 10

  “For what? I think men have been taking advantage of women who don’t have a man for centuries. Those three men are no different from most. You can’t arrest every single one of them. We stood up for ourselves, and that resulted in our getting fired. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said with a slur. “Now the bank is almost completely paid off, and we have food on the table. We’re no longer starving.”

  He admired her spunk, her perseverance, and how she had taken her sisters from losing the farm to having the loan almost completely paid off without the help of anyone.

  “I think we’re going to run out of whiskey before someone wins,” Zach said, his head feeling groggy. The pain in his shoulder had dulled to a small ache, instead of throbbing with his every heartbeat.

  She grabbed the bottle from him and took a swig. “There’s still enough for two more rounds. Or are you ready to cry uncle?”

  “No, ask away. I’ll answer your questions.”

  “How many girls have you kissed? Made love to?”

  The question sent a tremor charging down his spine. He wasn’t a saint, but he wasn’t a complete sinner either. Yeah, he’d kissed a lot of pretty girls when he was growing up, but not since he’d stopped running with his brothers. They were a wild bunch who’d enjoyed a good calico cat occasionally. Zach no longer played with fire for fear he’d get burned.

  He shook his head. “Nope. That’s two questions. You only get one.”

  “Then answer my first one, but you better not guzzle the rest of the whiskey to keep from answering the second,” she said, her voice low and commanding.

  Well, he certainly wasn’t going to answer her second question. A man didn’t tell a lady how many lovers he’d had. Maybe the direction of the game needed to change and quick. “I wouldn’t do that. That wouldn’t be fair, though, it’s tempting,” he said with a chuckle.

  Meg swayed toward him, the whiskey clearly affecting her. “Yeah, well, who said life was fair? I think you would drink it all just to keep from answering my question.”

  “I can’t remember how many women I’ve kissed. You have to understand I was raised with three brothers and well…there was a time when we were all kind of rough and randy. So I’ve kissed a fair number of gals.”

  “Damn. Am I the only woman who has only kissed one man? Even Ruby has kissed more men than me.”

  He reached over and drunkenly caressed her cheek. “I find that very charming. I’d like to be the man who showed you just how much fun kissing can be. But I don’t think that’s going to happen tonight,” he said with a slur, his eyes heavy and his head feeling like it weighed twenty pounds. It didn’t want to stay straight. The alcohol was beginning to affect his vision, and his mind was having a hard time focusing.

  He took the bottle from her. “As for your other question, a gentleman never tells.” With a laugh, he held the bottle to his lips.

  “Maybe a lady never tells as well.”

  If only he didn’t have a shoulder wound, they would be doing more than just talking. But then again, they wouldn’t be out here on the trail alone if he hadn’t gotten hurt. But still, the desire to prove to her that he knew she was a virgin was so tempting.

  “Oh, honey, I know you’re a virgin. If you haven’t been kissed, you have never experienced being with a man.”

  She pulled back from him. “How do you know I’m not lying?”

  He glanced over the top of the bottle. “If that’s not a challenging statement, I’ve never heard one. If I didn’t have this injured shoulder or had drunk almost this entire bottle of whiskey, we’d be finding out whether or not you’ve been with a man.”

  “Not unless I agreed,” she said.

  He leaned in close to her, his mouth mere inches from hers. Licking his lips, he stared at her full lips, her tiny mouth, and so wanted to taste her. He wanted to start at her cheek and work his way south, lingering in the juncture between her thighs, where his head had been resting earlier. Oh, there was so much of her he wanted to explore.

  “By the time I got through kissing and touching and whispering how much I want you, I think you’d be mine,” he said, his voice low and ragged.

  “You’re awfully sure of yourself,” she murmured against his lips.

  “A weak man doesn’t get what he wants.” And Lord knew he wanted her, even in his inebriated state.

  “Ask me a question,” she said.

  He leaned back and gazed at her intently. “What do you want for a wedding present?”

  She stared at him, her green eyes widening in surprise. “What did you just say?” She grabbed the bottle from his hand and finished it off.

  “I said what do you want for a wedding present?”

  “Are you talking specifically you or just anyone?”

  “Well, hell, I’m not trying to find out for some sage hen in town. I want to know what you want from me as a wedding present,” he said, not really even sure why he was asking, but knowing he was going to pursue her. He’d already made his mind up, and it didn’t matter if she said no, he would hunt her down until she said yes.

  She stared at him and shook her head. “Damn you, Zach. When I wanted you to marry me, you didn’t defend me. When I don’t want you to marry me, you start trying to court me. Why in the world would I want to marry an ornery cowboy like yourself?”

  He pulled her into his arms, his face inches from hers. “Because I’m regretting my actions that night. I think having you as my wife would be a challenge I would love waking up to every day.”

  He covered her mouth with his and tried to focus on how he wanted to take her. How he wanted to explore her body and taste his way from her mouth all the way to her toes. How he wanted to bring the passion he sensed just beneath the surface out into the open. He wanted to feel her surrender beneath him and hear her call out his name in excitement.

  He wanted Meg like no other woman he’d ever met, and yet, his shoulder rendered his arm useless, and the liquor was making him feel lethargic and drowsy. Suddenly, he felt his eyes closing and his body giving way to the numbness of the alcohol. And then he slumped against Meg.

  The last thing he heard was “You picked one hell of a time to pass out, cowboy.”

  *

  Meg awoke to birds chirping. It sounded like they were in her room at home. She wondered how they’d come into the house. She shifted on her side, and it was then she felt the large arm thrown across her middle, warmth spread across her back, and something hot and hard against her backside.

  A nice delicious sense of heat skittered down her spine, landing in the region of her stomach then sliding even lower.

  She opened her eyes and sat up. When she did, the world spun a crazy tilt and the memory from the night before came rushing back. Her head pounded like an army paraded through it, and her mouth was cottony with the nasty taste of alcohol.

  She moaned and grabbed the side of her head. Why had she drunk so much? The memory of their drinking game came rushing back, and nausea overwhelmed her.

  Zach lay on his good side, facing her, his eyes closed, his mouth hanging open as he gently snored.

  Of all the insults, he’d passed clean out last night while he’d been kissing her. Right in the middle of a lip-lock, she’d realized he was no longer moving. He was no longer kissing. His eyes were closed.

  And darn it, she’d been enjoying his kisses. She’d enjoyed his company and the twinkle in his eye when he’d asked her who she’d kissed. And then he’d passed out, and she’d won the game.

  Slowly, she rose from the bedroll on the hard ground. She stood, and the world seemed to whirl around her. She felt dizzy and nauseous, and somehow she had to get coffee boiling.

  Hurriedly, she went into the bushes and did her business then came back out and dug through her supplies. She poured water from the canteen into the pot, put it on to boil, then went to check on the horses.

  With each step, her head pounded and her stomach roiled, leaving her wishing she’d never met Zach Gi
llespie, never consumed a bottle of whiskey, or even heard of Simon Trudeau. She hated being sick, and this was self-induced.

  The horses were still staked out, and she moved them to a new area, where they could eat more grass. Suddenly, her stomach rebelled at the amount of alcohol she’d consumed, and she bent over in the grass and threw up.

  Her stomach was queasy with nausea, and she felt like the devil himself was dancing in her head. When she managed to get back to the bedroll, Zach was gone. She had no idea where he’d crawled off to, but she didn’t have the strength or the energy to look for him.

  She laid down, thinking maybe he was behind a bush somewhere. Soon, he stumbled back to the blanket and sank down.

  An awkward silence filled the air. For a moment, neither one of them said anything as everything they’d said to one another last night hung in the air like an invisible wall between them.

  Finally, Zach said, “Remind me to never drink a whole bottle of whiskey again.”

  “I may kill you myself for tempting me to play such a silly game,” she responded.

  “Hell, you won.”

  “All I won was a headache, a stomachache, and dinner with a cowboy.” Not to mention the fact he’d passed out in the middle of a kiss. Were her kisses so boring men just closed their eyes and began to snore?

  Dang it, she was not happy this morning. With all the talk of kissing and weddings and gifts and then for him to start snoring.

  He grimaced. “At least, your arm isn’t throbbing.”

  “No, just my head. I should get out my frying pan and make sure your head is pounding as badly as mine.”

  “Believe me, it is,” he said.

  “How’s your arm this morning?” she asked, realizing in her own misery she’d forgotten about shooting him yesterday.

  “It’s sore. So sore I don’t know if I could control my horse. How would you feel if we just laid low today and rested?” he asked.

  That would mean Simon would have a further jump on her. It would take her longer to find him. But lying here, resting with Zach, sounded like a great idea. How long had it been since she’d taken a day to recover? And this morning's hangover was the sickest she’d been in years. And just maybe she’d get the chance to tell him his kissing wasn’t good. It was damn boring.

  “I like that idea,” she whispered, not wanting any noise louder than her voice right now. “As long as it involves no more alcohol.”

  “We’re completely out,” he promised. “I’ll even get the coffee cups if you’ll pour. I can’t lift anything with my right arm.”

  He stood and went around to the horse and pulled out the cups. He took some hardtack out of his saddlebags and put it in a pan to heat over the fire.

  “Do you remember what we talked about last night?” Zach asked.

  Meg closed her eyes. He was trying to get out of asking her what she wanted for a wedding present. In the morning light, he’d decided she wasn’t the woman for him, and he was looking for a way out.

  “No,” she whispered. “Nothing, except drinking and drinking and drinking. And then your snoring. Right in the middle of kissing me.”

  Zach held the coffee cups in his hands and stared at her, his eyes widened. “No, I didn’t.”

  “You most certainly did, cowboy. Your lips were on mine, and then you went slack and started to snore,” she said, pouring the coffee into their cups. “I know I’ve never kissed a man before, but I didn’t think my kisses would put you to sleep.” The nerve of the man to fall asleep while she was kissing him. If they’d been married a hundred years, maybe, but even then he’d be doing time in the chicken shack.

  “No, honey, it wasn’t you. It was me. The alcohol and the loss of blood. I passed out cold. I don’t even remember what we were talking about. The last I remember, you were telling me how you were fired by Ho Chin,” he said. “It wasn’t your kissing. It was me.”

  She stared at him. He didn’t remember asking her what kind of wedding gift she wanted? Well, good. “You took bigger sips than me,” she admitted.

  “Your hangover still seems worse.”

  “That’s because it’s my first and hopefully my last.” She laid back down on her bedroll and watched him heat up their hardtack. She didn’t even know if she’d be able to keep the biscuit down. Her stomach was in an all-out rebellion at the moment at what she’d consumed last night.

  He took the hardtack out of the fire and handed her the biscuit. “Breakfast is served.”

  She sat up, and her world spun again. Closing her eyes, she brought the coffee up to her lips then slowly opened them. “Do you have any idea where Simon went?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “There’s a place I know of, and he might go there.”

  “Then we should leave now and go after him.”

  “And do what?” His look was filled with disdain. “Are you going to go racing after him? I don’t think so. Neither one of us feels like chasing him.”

  “No, but it has to be done.” Sometime today, she had to get up on her horse and ride after Simon. Soon, just as soon as her head could manage to stand up straight and her stomach wasn’t bucking like a wild horse.

  “It can wait a couple of days. I think we should rest and get my arm checked out by a doctor. Then we’ll be refreshed and ready to take him on once again.”

  “We? Who says we’re going to do this together?” she said. Did he think they were going to stick together? Oh, no. He sure as hell wasn’t getting this bounty. It was hers and hers alone.

  “I did,” he replied.

  “You’ll steal the bounty for yourself, just like you did last time,” she responded. She could feel her stomach muscles tightening at the idea of losing the bounty again. No, Zach couldn’t win this time.

  “No, I won’t,” he promised. “Once we prove his guilt, then the bounty will be yours. If we prove he’s not guilty…it won’t matter. We’ll work together.”

  “You know he’s guilty.”

  “No, I don’t. But I intend to find out, just like I do with all my clients,” Zach said.

  Meg raised her brows and stared at the handsome sheriff. Did he believe Simon was above suspicion? She wanted to laugh, but knew instinctively he wouldn’t think it was funny.

  “The boy is about as innocent as the hurdy-gurdy gals down at the bar. But you keep on thinking that, and soon I’ll have him tied up and turned in, and I’ll be walking away with the bounty.”

  Chapter Seven

  The next day they rode into Dyersville. Tension radiated from Meg like the heat of a potbelly stove. Zach sensed that if he weren't careful, she’d be riding off without him the moment she could sneak away. Still, he had no choice but to leave her, while he did some business in town. Some business Meg didn’t need to know about.

  “Let’s get a room here tonight, and then in the morning, I’ll take you to where Simon may be hiding,” Zach said, thinking it wasn’t a complete lie, but not really believing Simon was still there. After being shot, he’d watched Simon ride off with Frank.

  Somehow he feared the man had not listened to his advice and was now long gone and that made Zach question Simon’s claims of innocence. They needed to locate Mrs. Lowell. Zach wanted to hear her side of Simon’s tale and learn from her how the situation had played out.

  “As long as we get two rooms,” Meg replied, sliding down from her horse.

  “Of course,” Zach said. “Is it okay if I help you get your things into the room?”

  She stared at him. “Nope. I can manage on my own. I know how I like things done.”

  “Remind me to never let you drink alcohol again.”

  “Remind me to never let you kiss me again, since you’ll fall asleep.”

  “That was only one time,” he said, frustration spiraling like a tornado through his mid-section, tightening his stomach into a knot. Of all the times for him to pass out. “And I’d been drinking with you.”

  “Sad when a woman can out drink a man.”

 
The woman knew just how to put a burr under a man’s saddle and stick him on a regular basis. “I’d been shot. I lost blood. I could have died.”

  “That’s what happens when you ride in front of a bullet.”

  Shaking his head, he took a deep breath and decided to keep his mouth shut. It would be less painful.

  She raised her brows, her eyes flashing that impatient, irritated message only Meg could effectively convey. She’d already slid her saddle off and was standing there, waiting for him. “Get a move on, cowboy, or be left behind.”

  Hurriedly, he untied the cinch and pulled the saddle off his horse. “Remind me again, why I want to keep you along?”

  “Because I’m such good company,” she retorted, walking ahead of him, her pants swaying with the swing of her hips as she entered the hotel.

  It took about ten minutes to check in. Their rooms were across the hall from one another, close enough he could keep his eye on her. Yet they were separated, and after the last two nights on the trail, it would feel good to get cleaned up and sleep in a bed again. It would be good to put some distance between him and Meg just for a little while.

  They walked up the stairs and down the hall to their respective rooms. He glanced at her as she put her key in the lock and turned the knob. She opened the door and set her saddle inside. Then she turned to shut the door, and their eyes met across the hall.

  “Why don’t you rest and get cleaned up, and then we’ll go to dinner at seven,” he said, not really wanting her to leave his sight, but knowing he had things to do.

  Her eyes appraised him like a schoolmarm grading her students’ exams. “Am I dirty?”

  He shook his head. Since he’d fallen asleep while kissing her, she’d not given him any slack. She’d been touchy and irritable. He’d hoped it was because of a hangover, but maybe not. “No, I love my women to have that dusty glow about them with a smudge of mud on their pants and smelling of campfire smoke.”

  “Sarcasm doesn’t become you, cowboy.” A faint smile turned up her lips, and then she flashed him a haughty glance. “Plus, you look a little weather worn yourself.”