The Bounty Page 11

  Nicky, for once, had nothing to say so she nodded in agreement.

  “Before we go, I think you should, ah, that is, you need to…put those bindings back on.”

  Nicky blinked in surprise. He wanted her to bind her breasts?

  “Put the bindings back on? Why?”

  “Darling, if you don’t know why, I’m not going to be the one to tell you.” He took a deep breath. “Believe me, you need to make sure you bind those, or we’ll have a lot more trouble than we can handle.”

  “Well, okay, it will take me a minute. Turn to the window again, bounty hunter.”

  With a bucketful of doubt in her mind, she wrapped her breasts again, keeping a firm eye on her husband. Darling? Where had that come from? And what was wrong with her breasts?

  And why the hell couldn’t she catch her breath? Her body was burning hot from that kiss. Lord, that kiss. How could she sleep in the same room with him?

  “Sure as shooting, we’ll have trouble. Especially from me,” she thought she heard him mutter.

  ———

  The restaurant was half full. More than a few heads turned to survey Tyler and Nicky as they entered. With her hair down, and her hips swaying as she walked, she was clearly a woman. And the men knew it, damn their hides. Tyler saw their gazes raking her over and anger simmered in his belly. Was that jealousy? Damn, he could do without that feeling. He escorted her quickly to an empty table next to an older couple. The man nodded at Tyler with a friendly smile. Tyler nodded in return. At least some people still had manners.

  A waitress warily approached to take their orders, and set a cup of coffee in front of Tyler.

  “Evenin’, folks.” Her voice cracked.

  Nicky narrowed her gaze. “I’d like coffee, too,” she said, a little too loudly.

  “Oh, of course,” the young girl squeaked as she hurried off to get another cup.

  Tyler grinned at Nicky. She spared him a suffering look.

  The conversation between another couple two tables away grew heated. “I don’t care, Edgar. I will not keep silent,” rose the indignant voice.

  A red-haired matron stood and practically marched to their table. “As a good citizen of this town, I must insist that the two of you vacate these premises. A woman in men’s clothing who looks as if she’s been in a brawl is shameful enough, but a bounty hunter wearing guns and bringing an unwanted element into our fair town is entirely unacceptable.”

  Tyler’s mouth tightened in anger. He started to rise and face the harpy, but Nicky’s hand reached out to stop him. She stood at her full height, at least five-inches taller than the woman who clutched her reticule.

  “This man,” she pointed to Tyler, “is my husband. I will not have you insulting him or me. What I choose to wear is certainly none of your business, and neither is his profession. We’ll be happily on our way in the morning and not a moment sooner. So, please, go back to your own husband and mind your own business. You don’t want to see me angry.”

  Her voice had remained steady, deadly. The other woman’s face grew paler and paler until she looked the color of milk. “Well, I…” She stumbled backwards to her husband and hurriedly pulled him out of the dining room.

  Nicky sat down again and sighed deeply. Tyler looked at his wife with amazement. She was something all right. No one had ever stood up for him before, especially an outlaw he’d captured. There was no way in hell he could explain it either.

  “What?” she said innocently. Tyler shook his head slowly, a grin playing around his lips. “Small-minded people piss me off.”

  The waitress returned with Nicky’s coffee. Simultaneously, Tyler and Nicky said, “Steak and potatoes.”

  Two of a kind. He caught his breath as Nicky smiled at him. My wife. Doesn’t that beat all.

  “I wonder who else is going to bother us,” she said as she rolled her eyes.

  As they ate their supper, Tyler realized that he hadn’t wanted a woman this bad since he was a seventeen-year-old with a permanent stick in his pants. Nicky had been pleasant, even charming, throughout the meal as she kept up her ever-present chatter. Tyler had all he could do not to drag her upstairs, rip off those jeans, and bury himself in her sweet body. Every time he looked up, that little pink tongue was out grabbing a morsel off her fork. One positive thing about being on the trail, they ate over a fire, and the lighting was bad. In the bright light of the restaurant, he could see every sumptuous crease in her mouth, her lips, and her tongue. It was making him wild, and hard as an iron bar.

  As they headed out of the restaurant to return to the hotel, he kept his hand firmly around her upper arm. Lord, have mercy, she smelled like flowers.

  I need a drink.

  “If I leave you at the hotel for a little while, are you going to make a ruckus?”

  Her brows knitted together. “What are you going to do? Shackle me to the bed?”

  “Yeah. I, uh…I have something I need to do.”

  Her face flushed with anger. “Calhoun, are you telling me that on our wedding night you’re going to go poke a whore?”

  He clamped his hand over her mouth quickly. “Nicky,” he hissed. “Keep your voice down. No, I’m not going to see a whore. I need a drink.”

  He released her mouth and took off his hat. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking frustrated and glaring at her at the same time. She watched him with narrow eyes.

  “Fine. You can have your drink, but you’ll have to take me with you.”

  He groaned in frustration. “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “I said no.”

  “And I said yes. If you don’t, I’ll make so much noise, they’ll kick us out of the hotel.”

  He ground his teeth together as he debated whether or not the drink was worth the price of bringing his “wife” with him to a saloon. Pure raw need won out over common sense. The whiskey was calling him.

  “Put your hair up into your hat. And for God’s sake, don’t talk to anybody. We don’t need a saloon full of men lusting after you.”

  She gave an unladylike snort at his proclamation. As she stuffed her hair into her hat, she glared at him. Scooping up a handful of dirt, she rubbed it on her cheeks. She pulled off her new wedding ring and shoved it in her pocket. Tyler nodded his approval. She looked a little bit more like a man now, but still not nearly enough. Unfortunately, it would have to do. Grabbing her arm, they headed toward the Pink Lady Saloon.

  “Calhoun?”

  “What?”

  “Do you remember where you found me?”

  “What?” He stopped outside the batwing doors to the saloon, trying to figure out what she was blathering on about.

  “In a saloon, remember? I lived as a man for three years. I can drink and play cards with any man, and they’ll never know I’m a woman.”

  He nearly laughed at her naïveté. Tyler still doubted her ability to hide behind her male disguise. Then again, he had felt the softness that was hidden by the baggy shirt and jeans, and knew what treasures were hidden beneath those cursed bindings.

  “Well?”

  “I said, don’t talk to anybody.”

  Giving him a mutinous look, she shook her arm free and stalked into the saloon. Tyler was surprised to see her swagger in like a man. There was no sweet twist to her hips to give her away. When she reached the bar, she turned to look at him with guarded eyes.

  Tyler sighed in resignation. He needed a drink. As he ordered whiskey for himself, Nicky sent him another scalding look.

  “Whiskey for me, too. On him.” She jerked her thumb towards Tyler. Her voice was deeper, like that of a young man.

  “Son of a bitch!” Tyler nearly dropped his glass of whiskey as he watched his wife sling back the shot of whiskey like it was water.

  She belched softly and quirked up one side of her mouth. “Thanks, Tyler. I needed that.”

  Tyler’s astonishment turned to something else entirely as he began to choke on his own whiskey as it slid down his throat. />
  With no small measure of glee, she slapped him on the back heartily to “aid” him in his choking fit.

  “It’s been a while since the old man has had any whiskey,” she told the bartender by way of explanation.

  Old man?

  “Watch it, Nick,” he warned softly after he brought his coughing under control. “I’m not old enough that I can’t blister your ass for that.”

  Pouring himself another shot, Tyler turned to assess the crowd that was already in the saloon.

  Nicky was slammed into the bar with a thud as a large body bounced into her.

  “Watch it, kid.”

  “Watch it yourself, you drunken idiot,” Nicky shot back.

  Tyler turned to find a lurching, drunken cowboy staring down at Nicky. His stomach was clenched tightly and he realized that it was fear for his wife.

  “You is a mighty small boy to have such a big mouth.” The drunk grinned with a cruel twist to his slobbering lips. “Did your pappy here teach you how to fight like a man?”

  Before Tyler could make a move, Nicky had pulled one of his pistols out of its holster and had it pressed up against the chunky folds of the man’s fleshy chin.

  “Do ya want to find out?” Her voice was as deadly as her speed.

  “Put that down, ya little runt.”

  Tyler pulled the gun away from the man’s chin and ripped it from Nicky’s hand before she could turn it on him, and tucked it back into its holster.

  “If you want a fight, you better go find yourself another one.” Tyler’s voice was suddenly loud in the quiet saloon. “He’s just a boy.”

  “That boy has more curves than a boy ought to,” came another voice from the dark shadows of the saloon. “Mebbe it’s not a boy a’tall.”

  A murmur whispered through the crowd as a man stood up from the back of the room and slowly approached Tyler and Nicky. It was Rusty.

  Oh, shit.

  “In fact, I know this here’s a woman, and her bounty hunter. He shot my pal Nate here after we took her from him. She must be worth a lot a money.”

  Behind him, another shadowy man limped into the light. Nate.

  Double shit.

  The murmur of the crowd grew louder. “How much?”

  “Don’t rightly know, but it must be a lot.” Nate grinned, showing crooked, yellowing teeth. “How ‘bout it, bounty hunter? How much is she worth to you?”

  “I think you had too much to drink.” Tyler’s hand rested on his pistols ever so lightly. “This here is my little brother, Nick. He’s more of a man at fourteen than either one of you will be the rest of your life.”

  Nicky looked as if she was about to swallow her tongue and his own throat was as dry as cotton. The crowd was growing louder as the mood grew uglier. They didn’t have a chance against a saloon full of drunken, greedy men.

  Before he could come to a decision on how to get out of this, his wife started a saloon fight.

  As Nicky’s small fist cracked across Rusty’s jaw, she kicked out and her foot connected with a table that sent glasses and whiskey flying at Nate. He crashed into the group that had gathered. In a few moments, it was a melee. Bottles were thrown, chairs were breaking, and fists were flying. Nicky backed herself up to Tyler and they stood facing down the angry crowd together.

  Tyler was impressed with the way Nicky had stopped the deadly confrontation, which probably would have ended with his pistols. He never would have thought of it. As he swung and his fist connected with another man’s face, he could feel her behind him, giving another drunk the bite of her anger. Damn, what a woman!

  “We need to get out of here,” Tyler shouted.

  “I know, let’s start moving toward the door.”

  As they fought their way to the door, back to back, Rusty lunged for Nicky. He knocked her off balance and landed on top of her. Tyler felt the rush of wind as Nicky was taken down. Turning, he grabbed Rusty by the collar just as the man’s fist connected solidly with Nicky’s cheek.

  “Son of a bitch,” Tyler snarled as his fist plowed into the other man’s face. A satisfying pop told him he had broken the bastard’s nose. Rusty was moaning and holding his nose, then Nate was suddenly beside him, poised to strike at Tyler. The fool didn’t have a chance after Tyler’s fist knocked him out cold.

  With a grim smile, he turned back to Nicky. She was unconscious, with a small trickle of blood oozing from the side of her perfect mouth.

  “Nicky.” His voice was harsher than he intended. She looked so small and hurt lying on the floor that he lost most of his ability to reason. Picking her up gently, he cradled her against his chest and slipped out the door.

  ———

  Tyler sat in the chair, watching. Well, hell, actually he was brooding.

  She wasn’t asleep, but unconscious, and he found himself watching the rise and fall of her chest to be sure she was still breathing.

  It’s for the double bounty. There is no other reason. No other reason whatsoever.

  When she whimpered softly, his gaze snapped to her face. Her beautiful face, now marred with more than one bruise. What kind of husband was he anyway? Letting his wife get the tar beaten out of her by some low-down cowboy. His mama would be ashamed of him. He certainly didn’t feel very good about himself right now.

  Nicky came to groggily and licked her dry lips. “Tyler?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  She turned and winced noticeably. “Damn, that Rusty has one hell of a right. How long have I been out?”

  “Couple of hours.”

  She rubbed her eyes and glanced around. “This isn’t the same room.”

  “No, I thought it best if we moved to a different one.”

  Nicky nodded, but didn’t question him any further. She could probably barely see him in the lamplight. He was sitting in a chair in the shadows watching her intently.

  “What happened to them?”

  “They won’t bother us again.” He’d made sure of that. Those sorry bastards would be picking up their teeth for days.

  “Sorry about the fight. Thought it was the best way to go.”

  “It was.”

  “What?” she croaked. “Did you just agree with me?”

  “It happens every blue moon.”

  Nicky turned and discovered that one wrist was shackled to the bedpost. “Well, this is a nice wedding night.”

  “Go back to sleep, Nicky.”

  “What about you? You can’t sleep in a chair.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m not ready to sleep yet.”

  As a huge yawn overtook her, Nicky winced then gingerly touched her swollen cheek.

  “Ouch.” She looked down at herself and wrinkled her nose. “I need to get out of these dusty clothes. I can’t sleep like this.”

  “Fine. Do what you need to do.”

  “Can you unshackle me so I can at least get comfortable?”

  Tyler stood and crossed the room. Careful not to touch her, he unlocked the shackle.

  “Take off that sleeve.”

  Grinding her teeth, she pulled off one sleeve with her back to Tyler. He shackled her wrist quickly before he could trust himself to look at her with her shirt dangling.

  “Finish up. I’ll be back in five minutes.” Then he left the room.

  ———

  Nicky sighed in disappointment, then took off her shirt and jeans. After a moment’s hesitation, she reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out the wedding band. She stared at the gold that sparkled in the lamplight, then slipped it on. She held her hand up and cocked her head to the right, studying the ring.

  “Nicole Calhoun,” she murmured. She sighed heavily at her own girlish fantasies. Reality intruded with the grace of a charging bull. Her husband would be back in minutes.

  “I’m not leaving these bindings on again tonight,” she announced to the empty room as she unraveled the bindings compressing her breasts. Stretching her fingers out, she snagged her saddlebags from the floor and retrieved h
er chemise and pantalets. It had been some time since she’d worn both simple cotton garments, and slipping them on felt heavenly. It made her feel like a girl again.

  ———

  Tyler stood just outside the door clenching and unclenching his fists. He had to use both hands now to count how many times she’d been injured while his prisoner. This time, she had done it to save their hides. He had a hard time convincing himself she was the outlaw Hoffman claimed her to be.

  As he entered the room again, Tyler found Nicky sound asleep on the bed. He slipped in beside her and immediately regretted it. She was a pile of distractions. She snored softly in her sleep, she was in women’s underclothes that appeared from somewhere, and her hair kept getting in his face. Sometime after what seemed like hours, he drifted off into unconsciousness, exhausted.

  ———

  Nicky woke early, startled to find herself in a comfortable bed. She realized that somehow her head had found its way onto Tyler’s arm. Oh, right, Tyler, she thought, my husband. His arm felt so firm under her head, she didn’t want to move yet, so she stared at the ceiling, wondering how she could have gotten herself into such a strange situation. During the night sometime she had wriggled out from under the covers and snuggled up against him. It was shameful, but not really, since he was her husband after all. He had shackled her to his wrist, and their hands were almost touching.

  She smiled, remembering the way he’d woken her that first morning shouting in her face like a howling banshee. She turned to him, full of mischief, ready to scream like the building was on fire. It died on her lips.

  In sleep, Tyler was incredibly exotic; his face was softer, almost boyish. Although he still had his pants on, his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing that jaw-dropping chest. She studied his face as he slept. His lashes were black and thick and his cheekbones were prominent, as was his jaw. His cheeks were a little gaunt, but it made his lips look so full, so kissable.

  Nicky felt her desire come back like a hammer blow. Her nipples grew taut against her thin cotton chemise. She swallowed hard against the rising tide and took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. There was still the matter of Tyler’s wake-up call. She almost giggled aloud. Slowly, she leaned over and placed her lips next to his ear.