Hell for Leather

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  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

  Macon GA 31201

  Hell For Leather

  Copyright © 2008 by Beth Williamson

  ISBN: 1-60504-046-0

  Edited by Sasha Knight

  Cover by Scott Carpenter

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: June 2008

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  Hell for Leather

  Beth Williamson

  Dedication

  To everyone who has ever thought themselves beyond saving, beyond redemption, beyond the reach of love, may you find the light, the peace and the happiness you richly deserve.

  Prologue

  The cheap whiskey burned as it slid down Kincaid’s throat like an old friend. A man not used to such rotgut would’ve choked. The smells and sounds of the saloon were a buzz in the back of his mind, but he didn’t really notice them much.

  It was the girl.

  The same blonde he’d seen a year ago singing up on stage like a songbird was now serving drinks, looking like a used-up washrag. She’d been bright-eyed and sweet, no more than sixteen, and now she looked haggard, could pass for thirty. He’d seen it happen so many times. He shouldn’t be even thinking about her or her fate, but he was.

  He blamed it on the damn Malloys. If he hadn’t gotten caught up in their lives, he would be as numb as he had been most of his life.

  Kincaid slung back the rest of the amber liquid then stood. He told himself to walk out of the saloon, but somehow his feet found their way to the little blonde. As he pressed a golden eagle into her palm, he whispered in her ear.

  “Get out of here as fast as you can.”

  She looked startled, but she didn’t pull away, proving she had a backbone. Good, she’d need one to escape from a life in hell.

  “Who are you, mister?”

  “I’m nobody. A dead man come to life to tell you to get your ass out of here.”

  With that, he walked out into the bright Wyoming sunlight. His act of kindness surprised even him. Maybe she’d get out in time to save her life, or may he’d just given her enough money to prolong it an extra six months. Didn’t matter because he wasn’t going to be around to find out.

  It was time to bury Kincaid and bring Cade Brody to life.

  Chapter One

  November 1889

  The sun burned off the morning frost, giving rise to mists all along the mossy forest floor. Shafts of light followed his footsteps as Cade Brody walked along with his burlap sack and shovel. He continued on until he found an enormous pine tree with a huge broken branch jutting out from the middle. Although he planned on never being near this damn tree again, he had to know how to find it, just in case.

  He set the sack down and used the shovel to clear away the pine needles and leaves. His breath came out in white puffs, letting him know the foothills of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains felt the bite of the cold weather to come. He dug until he’d made a narrow hole three feet in depth. Should be enough to keep any critters or humans out of his business.

  Cade set the shovel aside and squatted down on his haunches. When he gripped the rough fabric of the sack, he cursed to see his hand shaking. It wasn’t that hard to bury yourself, but damned if he didn’t feel a bit sick as he lowered his former life into the ground. He’d made the decision two months ago to kill himself and now he was taking the final step.

  He closed his eyes and thought about everything he was leaving behind, a whole lot of nothing, and opened his eyes to see what he was gaining. In the spring, his little valley would be beautiful. Now it was a dying land with an echo of life in its colorful leaves.

  Cade finally let go of the bag, and it tumbled into the hole. He stared down into the darkness, wondering if he’d made the right choice, knowing it was almost too late to go back. Almost, but not quite, because he could simply pick up the sack and leave New Mexico.

  He stood and wiped his hands on the brown trousers he’d gotten from a friend. No longer the silky black he’d become accustomed to, his new clothes reflected his new life—simple. It was time to accept it and move on.

  The first shovelful of dirt was the hardest, but after that, he filled the hole without stopping. He spread the dirt displaced by the sack on the ground around the hole, then covered everything again with pine needles and leaves. Cade stared at the blister on his hand and imagined the calluses he’d have this time next year. This was just the beginning of many to come.

  He glanced around and found a piece of white quartz to mark the spot. With a little bit of digging, he wiggled the rock into place. It wasn’t much of a grave marker, but it’d do.

  Cade stood and pulled off his hat, pressing it to his chest.

  “Dear Lord, keep this man safe from harm and take him into your kingdom. He ain’t worth more than spit in the wind, but he’s yours now. Amen.”

  With that, Cade Brody picked up his shovel and walked back to his horse, certain he’d buried Kincaid for good. It was time to become the new man he’d chosen to be.

  The cabin was in surprisingly good shape. The lawyer in Santa Fe said the previous owner had died six months earlier and no one had claimed it. Cade had been the lucky person who had made an offer to purchase it. The county had been all too willing to unload a property out in the middle of nowhere at the base of the mountains.

  About time the damn blood money paid for something other than whiskey, whores or food. As he approached the cabin, a strange feeling crept through him. The cabin wasn’t anything special as far as houses go, in fact a layer of dirt and pine needles peppered the outside.

  Cade didn’t feel as though it was home, only a house. After all, there wasn’t anyone waiting for him, just an empty building—except for a critter or two. Yet, that strange feeling remained. Damned if he could figure it out though.

  The door opened easily, which was a surprise. He reached for the gun that didn’t rest on his hip anymore.

  “Shit.”

  With a frown that could likely scare small children, he stepped into the cabin in a crouch. A quick look around revealed only one room in the cabin, and aside from a chair and a bare mattress frame, there was nothing and no one there.

  The nothing concerned him more than the no one. There was no dirt, no twigs, no raccoon shit, just nothing in the cabin. Someone had been keeping it clean and it wasn’t Cade. The fireplace showed fresh ashes. They were cold so it had been at least a few days, but someone had been there.

  This wasn’t exactly what he wanted to see or deal with. Jesus Christ, the cabin was his, not some squatter’s. No doubt he’d have to scare the idiot off too. A scrape against the outside wall had him running to find whoever or whatever had made the noise. A thrill raced through him as he burst out the door and ran around to the back of the cabin. He nearly tripped over a wooden bucket, but saved himself by slamming his left hand into the side of the cabin.

  A dozen splinters later, he got his balance back and made it to the tree line figuring whoever it was would’ve run for cover. Thank God he’d worked his ass off on Malloy’s ranch back in Wy
oming or he’d have been breathing like a locomotive. Two minutes later, he realized he was chasing air. Nothing marked the ground or brush around him except his own passage.

  Cade put his hands on his hips and closed his eyes, straining to hear the sounds of the forest. Except for his heartbeat, he heard nothing out of the ordinary, not a whisper of someone who didn’t belong.

  He talked to the trees, hoping his trespasser was within shouting distance. “Whoever you are, the cabin belongs to me now. If you come back, you and me are going to have a problem. Go squat someplace else.”

  He stood there for five minutes, scanning the woods around him. With another muttered curse, he headed back to the cabin alone, pulling out the splinters as he went. By the time he reached the bucket, he’d gotten most of them out. When he glanced down, he stopped short and picked up the discarded thing.

  It was wet inside, which meant whoever he’d surprised earlier had been heading toward the cabin with water. For what, he could only guess—wash, cook, drink—it wasn’t really important. What was important was that this stranger was treating Cade’s property as his own.

  That wouldn’t happen again. Cade didn’t need guns to take care of himself, he had two hands and a well-used sense of survival. The squatter had no idea who he was up against.

  Although he didn’t particularly want to, Cade headed into Eustace, the spot that passed for a town in the middle of nowhere. Before he truly settled in, he wanted to have enough staples to get him by for at least a month. It was early November, but winter was already muscling its way in and he wanted to be prepared to last out the season in his cabin, alone. Since he had to leave behind his well-known horse in Wyoming, along with his sanity, he had picked up a new gelding along the way. As he rode through the woods, he repeated Cade’s history to himself. Not that anyone would ask, but he wasn’t about to trip over a lie of his own making.

  By the time he’d ridden the two hours into town, the sun had warmed up enough that he could no longer see his breath. That would be a rarity within a couple of weeks.

  Eustace wasn’t much more than a mining town with a dozen wooden buildings, the last stop before travelers tackled the mountains. A saloon, a post office inside the general store, and a few houses were the only buildings in town aside from a lumbermill. From what he’d been told, the mill supplied timber downstate and kept the town going.

  The other thing he noticed was the lack of a jail or a sheriff’s office. That pleased Cade quite a bit. He didn’t need any nosey lawman making his life difficult.

  He hoped the store wouldn’t overcharge for supplies as many stores that catered to miners often did. Cade didn’t want to make a bad impression by arguing. Hell, he didn’t want to make any impression. The less folks remembered him, the better.

  No one greeted him, although there were several folks going about their business in Eustace. Cade dismounted and secured his horse to the hitching post, surprised to find his stomach uneasy.

  There was nothing to worry about unless he tripped up on his own tongue. With a deep breath, he stepped up onto the sidewalk and opened the door marked “Eustace Store and Post Office”. A tiny bell above the door sounded in the still air. Cade walked in and immediately knew there were two people in the store—one male and one female. Whoever the man was, he stank as if he hadn’t seen soap in a year.

  She, however, smelled like roses and flour. Cade spotted both of them by the front counter, staring at him. The woman snatched his breath away. Eyes as bright as bluebonnets, wavy brown hair in a braid that lay on her generous breasts, she stood nearly a head taller than the man in front of her. Startled for the first time in a very long time, Cade simply stared until she raised her eyebrows.

  “Can I help you, mister?” Her voice was deeper than most women’s, smoky and smooth.

  “Who is that, Sabrina? Ya think he come to take my mine?”

  Cade finally tore his eyes away from the woman and took a look at the man. He had a balding head with greasy curls sticking every which way. The clothes he wore had seen better days, and his hands clutched a tattered knit cap.

  “I don’t know who it is, Frenchie, but I’m sure he won’t be taking your mine.” She quirked the corner of her mouth at Cade. “Will you, mister?”

  Cade touched the brim of his hat with two fingers in greeting. “Not here to take anything from anybody. Just wanting to buy some supplies.”

  The woman, Sabrina, patted the man on his shoulder. “See, he’s not going to take your mine.”

  “Hmph, I ain’t trusting nobody, nohow. ’Cept you a’course.” He smiled at her, showing a smattering of yellowed teeth that would rival any dog’s.

  As Sabrina smiled back, an arrow of pure lust slammed into Cade’s gut. He shook off the feeling with effort. There was no way in hell he could afford to be pining after a woman in town, much less a respectable one. Unless he was paying for it, there’d be no bed play for him no matter how much he was attracted.

  “Help yourself to what you need.” Sabrina gestured around the store with her arm. “I’ve got most everything, but I also have the Sears catalog if you’ve got something special you need.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Cade forced himself to walk to the left, out of her line of vision. Jesus H. Christ, he was making a mess of his first day of life.

  Focusing on what he needed helped to keep his mind off Sabrina. He gathered some canned goods, coffee, flour and other food items before he went to put everything on the counter. That proved to be his next mistake.

  Up close, her rose scent surrounded him, yanked at his dick and nearly knocked him to his knees. It had obviously been too long since he’d been with a woman if he reacted like an idiot to a storekeeper in the middle of nowhere. He didn’t need to be involved with a woman, especially one who affected him so strongly and so instantly. Sabrina could make him forget who he was and who he was supposed to be.

  She glanced down at the supplies. “Did you need anything else? We’ve got pots, pans and the like, plus clothing. And”—her gaze roamed over his shoulders—“I think I have a few things in stock that’d fit you.”

  When her blue gaze collided with his, a beat of pure energy shot between them. He knew she felt it too when her eyes widened. It was the strangest thing he’d ever felt, and it scared the hell out of him.

  “No, nothing else.” He had to get out of there right fast.

  “You need some trousers,” a voice piped up from beside him.

  Cade had almost forgotten the stinky little man. “What’s that?”

  Frenchie pointed at Cade’s legs. “Your trousers is too short. That ain’t gonna do you no good when the snow hits.”

  Cade could’ve smacked himself for not even thinking of making sure his pants were the right size. When he accepted them from his friend Brett, he hadn’t checked the length. He and Brett were about the same height, but apparently Cade’s legs were longer. Ignoring the observant fool, Cade gestured to the food.

  “How much do I owe you, ma’am?”

  “Two dollars and forty-two cents. I’ve got some extra sacks from Frenchie’s apples. Do you need one?”

  She was smart too, dammit. She’d added up the cost of the goods in her head.

  “That’d be fine. Thank you.” Cade forced himself to count out the money from his pocket and ignore the living, breathing distraction in front of him. When he was in better control of his emotions, he’d come back and buy pants that actually fit.

  “Are you new in town?” Sabrina finished putting everything in the potato sack. He hoped like hell it didn’t smell like Frenchie—could be why she was giving them away.

  “Yeah, I bought Harmon’s place. Name’s Cade Brody.”

  “I wondered if someone would buy Old Louie’s place. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Brody. I’m Sabrina Edmonds. My sister and I run the store.” She held out her hand and Cade had no choice but to shake it. It was firm, soft, yet had the marks of a woman who worked for a living. It fit perfectly in his palm, an
d he pulled his hand away as quickly as he could. “If any mail comes in for you, I’ll keep it until you get into town.”

  “Don’t expect to get any mail.” He looked in her eyes, willing her to let him be.

  After a pregnant pause, she smiled again. “Well, then, we’re usually here and we live upstairs so if you knock on the door loud enough, we’ll hear you.”

  Cade had to almost kick himself to stop imagining where she slept, which apparently lay just above them. Sabrina was dangerous to his sanity, and he’d do best to keep his distance from her. With a nod to both of them, Cade got out of there like someone was chasing him, his body still thrumming from touching her hand.

  Dammit.

  Sabrina stared after the stranger, a low arousal pleasantly buzzing through her. She’d seen him when he rode into town, and the man definitely knew how to sit on a horse. The clothes he wore weren’t the right size and he looked downright uncomfortable in them. If she had to hazard a guess, he was hiding from something or somebody.

  Cade Brody was a handsome man with wavy black hair, and those dark eyes could keep her dreams full for weeks. She didn’t normally react so swiftly to a man, but she had this time. He obviously didn’t want to answer any questions about himself or his life so she hadn’t pushed. However, the feel of his hand lingered on hers like a ghost touch.

  “Where’d he come from?” Frenchie scowled at the closed door.

  “I don’t know. He’s just a new neighbor. Be nice,” she scolded. “Don’t be driving folks away from my store or I’ll lose so much business I’ll have to close up.”

  The panic on Frenchie’s face almost made her laugh. She’d only meant to tease him, not send him into apoplexy.

  “I’ll be good, I swear, Sabrina.”

  “I know you will. Now get on with you over to the bathhouse. You promised me you’d go when you were in town.” Sabrina seemed to be the only one who could convince the old miner he needed soap at least a few times a year.