Determined: Western Historical Romance (Lipstick and Lead series Book 5) Read online

  “Lay down,” he ordered.

  Fear clutched her chest as she lay on the ground. Ice pieces pounded the lean-to, bouncing around them. The tarp sagged under the weight, and Jackson covered her body with his, taking the beating through the tarp, which now sagged under the weight of the water and ice.

  “I’m just trying to protect you from the hail,” he said, his breath whispery soft against her cheek.

  “I know, but you’re the one recovering from a beating. I should be on top,” she said, her body trembling as the storm raged outside. She could feel his taut abdomen, his sinewy thighs, his muscled chest, and thick forearms covering her. “Thank you.”

  Guilt filled her at the thought of his bruised and battered body covering her own, protecting her, while he got pounded through the oil-skinned tarp. Yet, he felt good laying on top of her. Too good.

  He glanced down at her, and she could see his brown eyes glittering in the semi-darkness. “Miss Williams, I must tell you that your pistol is poking me in a very intimate place.”

  It was so unexpected that she gazed up at him and started laughing, releasing the fear and worry she’d felt only moments before. She’d never been out on the prairie in a storm. This was a first, and she was relieved she wasn’t alone. “I’m afraid if I try to move it, I’ll shoot one of us.”

  “That wouldn’t be good, would it,” he said, gazing down at her, staring at her in a way that was creating all kinds of nice cozy feelings soaring through her.

  “No,” she whispered, her lungs laboring for air. Beneath the tarp, she felt warm, secure, something she’d never experienced before. She gazed up at Jackson’s full lips and licked her own. She’d enjoyed his kisses very much the other day, and this felt like the perfect place for him to kiss her again, but he was just staring at her like she was lunch, and he wanted what was on the menu.

  Her mouth moved toward his of its own accord. She didn’t tell her lips to go there, yet she wanted to taste him again. To feel his caress once more.

  Tentatively, she pressed her lips to his. He didn’t need any further encouragement. His mouth covered hers in a blazing kiss that seared her all the way to her toes. His hands gripped her face as his lips consumed her. She tensed beneath him as the sound of thunder rumbled in the ground beneath them.

  He lifted his head, staring down at her. “If you want me to stop, tell me.”

  Oh my. She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted more of these feelings he was creating inside her.

  He captured her mouth to his once again, and she eagerly met him. That was the confusing part. She didn’t want him to stop. At the time she’d been a soiled dove, most clients hadn’t kissed her, and the ones that had had never felt like this. Never had her heart raced in her chest, her breath faltered in her lungs, or this warmth heated her center. This feeling he evoked was completely new to her.

  His lips ravished her. She opened her mouth, accepting his unspoken acknowledgement of passion between them as his mouth plundered hers, voracious and demanding.

  Her mind fought against the hunger she could feel growing inside her. She arched into him, feeling his hardened shaft nestled between her legs.

  Like the storm outside, fear flooded her, swamping her desire. What was she doing?

  “Stop,” she said, pushing him away, her breathing heavy.

  He gazed at her, and she could see the longing reflected in his gaze and feel the rapidness of his breath and the hardened desire snuggled between her legs.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t,” she said, glancing away, fear almost choking her as the rain now hit the tarp with a soft, steady rhythm. “Your good book is poking me in the chest.”

  His fingers pushed the hair from her face. “Don’t apologize, Hannah. It’s okay. You make me forget myself. I guess God was sending us both a message.”

  “I don’t need his message.”

  “We all need his message.” With a deep sigh, he turned and glanced outside. “I think the storm outside has just about passed.”

  Need radiated from his body, yet he’d done what she’d asked. He’d stopped when asked, though he was hard with wanting.

  Shock filled her as he rose from covering her and strode from the lean-to.

  *

  Riding the long, green prairie trail back to Hide Town, Jackson knew this time destiny would be fulfilled. Spring was a time of new growth, and he was determined the townspeople would soon experience the change the new season brought. His fate was to help Hannah clean up the town.

  Whatever happened, whether he lived or died in the coming battle, he wanted Hannah to be safe. If Jackson was harmed or killed, Zach had promised he would find her. Jackson knew the sheriff of Hide Town would be searching for a way to end Jackson’s days without the citizens aware he was gone.

  Kissing Hannah during the storm last night had been a huge mistake. He’d suffered greatly from her soft womanly curves beneath him, her sweet mouth, and the way she’d gazed at him when she asked him to stop.

  The woman was a temptation he’d never experienced. He longed to protect her, guide her, and comfort her. And yet, because of his own lack of courage, he barely had the right to ask for her name.

  Hurt radiated from her soul, calling out to him. She was like a wounded animal frightened and injured, and he wanted to ease her damaged spirit. To make her whole once again. To be like a soothing, healing balm.

  Yet, the thoughts he’d been having in that lean-to were more of a man who lusted after the woman beneath him. As a preacher, women threw themselves at him or arranged for their daughters to meet him, and not one had ever filled him with longing like Hannah. None of them had ever needed him like Hannah.

  But she was filled with hate and a determination to kill and until she realized how hollow and painful those feelings were, he could never be with her. His heart ached with the knowledge of just how ugly that reality could leave a person.

  Hannah remained quiet as they rode the prairie in the morning sun, heading for Hide Town. The citizens may be captive now, but Jackson had every intention of freeing the city from the outlaws that held it hostage and turning the city into a prosperous commerce, if he didn’t die in the battle for justice.

  On the edge of town, he turned to look at Hannah. “I’m not skulking in that cabin again.”

  She whirled in her saddle to face him, her eyes large and wide filled with fear. “You have to.”

  The thought of another beating caused his chest to ache with the fresh memory, yet he refused to hide away any longer.

  “No,” he raised his chin and faced her with determination. “We’re riding into town. It’s Sunday. I’m returning to my church. I’m getting my congregation back on my side.”

  “They’ll kill us.”

  “I don’t think so.” He said a quick prayer, hoping he was right.

  “And if you’re wrong, we’re both dead.”

  “Have faith, Hannah.”

  Spurring his horse, he rode through the middle of Main Street with Hannah at his side. People stopped and stared as if they were seeing a ghost. They’d believed he was dead.

  Music spilled from the church at the end of the street. Halting in front of the building, he slid from his horse. Then he placed his hands around Hannah’s waist and helped her from her mare. He liked the way she fit in his arms—her small, compact body snug against his own.

  “Preacher man, I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said, shaking her head, gazing up at him like he was in need of a nuthouse. “I’m afraid, but I’m going to protect you.”

  He smiled. “It’s Sunday morning. We need to be in church. The Lord will protect us.”

  “My six-shooter will lend him some help.”

  Taking her arm, he led her up the stairs of the building. He opened the door and escorted her down the small aisle, a smile plastered on his lips.

  The songleader’s face blanched, and he stopped, his mouth hanging open.

  Jackson enjoyed the shock on the people’s fa
ces as he strode up the aisle to the pulpit, where he’d preached to his flock every week. He was back.

  Releasing Hannah’s arm, he pointed for her to take a seat in the front row. He walked to the pulpit, wondering who would shoot him first, and pulled his Bible from his pocket. “Thank you for that fine songleading, George, but you can take a seat now.”

  An elder in the church stood up. “Jackson, we don’t want any trouble.”

  Jackson motioned for him to sit. “It’s a beautiful Sunday morning to celebrate life here in the Lord’s house.” He glanced around at the people staring at him, their faces drawn and filled with fright. “I know many of you believed the stories you heard about me. Believed I was consorting with a young soiled dove. Maybe you even believed I was dead and thought good riddance, he got what he had coming. But I’m here to tell you the facts.”

  Silence filled the vestibule of the small church, and he glanced at Hannah, drawing strength from the sight of her. “I’ve returned to do what Jesus did. Clean the temple. Only I’ll be cleaning the town. We have lawless people running our community. The madam of the whorehouse is having young, sixteen-year-old girls kidnapped and forced into prostitution. At first, I didn’t believe it when it was brought to my attention. But when Hannah escaped and then Melissa was brought in as her replacement, I knew what was happening. Some of you have young women in your homes. What if your daughter was taken?”

  The people were staring at him in horror at the thought of their own women and children being captured. He smiled as they were listening. “I helped Melissa escape. Because of that, I was beaten by the madam’s goons and left for dead. Hannah rescued me.”

  There was a gasp, and one of the elders yelled, “You’re still consorting with prostitutes!”

  “You’re right, and so are some of you. I know there are men in this very congregation who are going up to that brothel, using women. Some of you have family members who are probably wanted by the law. It’s time to clean up this town.” He paused, letting his words resonate. “I will be helping Hannah do just that. She’s a bounty hunter. She’s here to arrest the man who kidnapped her, who she thinks killed her mother. I’m going to help her any way I can. It’s my goal to make this community a safe place for good people to live.”

  There was silence. He was trying to warn his congregation that life in Hyde Town was about to change. No longer would outlaws freely roam the streets. And if they had family members, they needed to warn them to get out of town. “If you want me to leave, I will, but if you’re ready to make this a town worthy of raising your children in, then please stand.”

  For a moment, he could see them glancing at one another as if asking who would stand first. Finally, a woman stood and then another and another. Soon almost everyone stood. Several men were yanked to their feet by their wives.

  Smiling triumphantly, he motioned for the songleader to return to the podium. “George, lead us in another song and a prayer for safekeeping this week.”

  As he walked back down the aisle of the church, many people reached out and shook his hand. Happiness filled his chest, as he realized he was back where he belonged, filled with the purpose of his mission for this church. When he reached the back of the vestibule, he gazed up at the stained glass cross that filled the back wall. The sun shone brightly through the mosaic, much like the determination beaming through him.

  He hadn’t turned his back on God. God’s people had turned their backs on him, but he’d persevered, and now he was more unwavering than ever to meet the challenge head-on. His bruises were fading, his strength was returning, and his will felt like a hundred pound gorilla.

  In the front row, he saw the soft red-blonde curls of Hannah. His heart warmed, and his loins tightened. The girl was a danger for him to be around, yet he felt responsible for her safety. She was a menace to herself, and he felt the need to protect her.

  But could he take care of her, clean up the town, and save his congregation?

  Chapter Seven

  Hannah sat on the hard wooden front pew of the church, while everyone walked out, leaving her alone in the small building. No one had approached her. No one.

  Her chest ached with the pain of being rejected, and she willed the hurt away.

  Regardless of what Jackson had told them, they still considered her that soiled dove who’d been with countless men. How many more women were in that brothel feeling like they had no choice, no place to go, and no one who would want them?

  She sighed, took a deep breath, and stood. Yes, people obviously thought she no longer belonged in polite society, but she had a purpose. A job to do.

  She would find her mother’s killer and bring him to justice—dead or alive, she didn’t really care—and in the process, make the madam pay for how she’d treated Hannah. If possible, shut her down.

  Glancing around Jackson’s now empty church, she knew this was where he belonged and not with her by his side. Those moments spent together beneath the tarp yesterday were best forgotten.

  Anger coursed through her veins. If there was a God, why had He forsaken her? She’d been a young, innocent victim, and He’d turned his back on her. She was happy Jackson had saved Melissa, but why couldn’t it have been her? Why hadn’t someone realized she hadn’t chosen this life?

  Raising her fist at the cross, she turned and walked away.

  When she stepped outside, she saw Jackson talking to a crowd of people. He was smiling, laughing, and she realized she needed to slip back to the abandoned cabin on the edge of town. There, she could go about her business of finding her stepfather and freeing all the madam’s girls. The time had come for her and Jackson to separate, yet that thought left her lonely.

  Turning away from him, she saw the madam and two of her goons approaching. Her heart skipped a beat then swelled in her throat, racing like a pack of wild animals were chasing her. She wanted to run, but instead, she let her hand drop down to rest on the gun slung low on her waist. Her training kicking in.

  “Hannah,” the madam called, walking toward her with the two henchmen at her side, a parasol shading her.

  She waited until the woman stood in front of her before she responded. “Mrs. Hutchins,” she said, a sneer in her voice. There was no way she was going to let them take her. She’d die before she went back to work in the saloon.

  “You’ve returned,” the madam said. “You must have enjoyed working for me to come back to Hide Town.”

  “I hate you and your brothel,” Hannah said, trying to keep from reaching out and scratching the woman’s eyes out.

  Suddenly, Hannah realized the crowd behind her had quieted, and she felt Jackson step up beside her.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “You’re back, Reverend,” Mrs. Hutchins said, laughing at him. “Which one of my girls do you want to spend time with now?”

  “I rescued a girl from you and in the process, almost died, thanks to you and your goons,” Jackson said, his voice steely.

  “You look perfectly fine to me,” the woman said, twirling her parasol. “I think Clara has been pining for you.”

  “Clara doesn’t even know me,” he said. “What do you want?”

  “This girl owes me money. She’s coming with me,” the woman said, her voice stern. She motioned for the closest goon to grab Hannah.

  Hannah whipped out her six-shooter and pointed it at the man. “Do you really want to die today?”

  He hesitated.

  “Please give me an excuse to kill someone,” Hannah said, the gun pointed steadily at the madam. “I don’t owe you a dime. It’s not my fault my stepfather was in arrears with you. I should never have been made to pay for his debts.”

  “Oh, honey, he didn’t owe me money. He made money selling you to me,” she said with a laugh. “But you owe me for the room and board. The dress. The training.”

  Hannah felt like her world had suddenly tilted on its axis. All this time, they’d made her believe she had no choice but to pay her ste
pfather’s debts, when actually he’d been paid for selling her to the madam.

  Rage consumed her, making her almost blind with hatred. If Elliot had been there in front of her, she would have filled him so full of holes, he would never float.

  “It’s back to the brothel for you,” Mrs. Hutchins said, smiling with a gleam in her eye.

  The goon made to grab Hannah, and she cocked the hammer back on her gun. “Come any closer and you’re a dead man. I don’t owe her a dime. She stole my innocence.”

  “You heard Hannah. She’s not going back,” Jackson asserted, his voice filled with quiet strength. “We don’t want trouble. But I have a crowd of witnesses. We’re no longer going to accept you enslaving women. I’d suggest you get on down the street, unless you want a fight on your hands. Do you understand me?”

  Hannah watched the woman glancing back and forth between the two of them like she was determining her next move. Jackson wanted Hannah not to kill anyone, but right now, she was shaking with the urge to pull the trigger on the woman who had forced her into a life she hated.

  “Preacher Colster, you are stepping in a pile of manure you don’t want to get involved in. I will crush you and take Hannah,” Mrs. Hutchins said calmly.

  “That may be so, but today, we have the firepower, and I know Hannah is just itching to kill you. So unless you’re ready to die, I think maybe you need to mosey on back down the street.”

  Jackson understood Hannah, better than any person she’d ever met. He knew she was just aching with the need to kill the woman who’d prostituted her, but she’d reined in her first response because of him.

  The goon stepped toward Jackson, and Hannah fired the gun at his feet. He jumped and the crowd cried out.

  “Don’t!” Hannah cried. “This man is just recovering from the beating you gave him. That was your last warning. The next bullet is hitting flesh, yours or the madam’s, I don’t really care.”

  Tension oozed from Hannah, and she could hear the crowd mumbling.