Wyatt's Bounty

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Prologue

Cheyenne Wyoming, 1879

Shadows lengthened across the town of Cheyenne, adding to the uncertain confusion spreading through Wyatt McCade. He drew in a slow and steady breath, his gut clenching tight at recalling the unexpected news he’d received several hours ago. Tess Sullivan, Cheyenne’s lady doctor, was going back East. Glancing across the dusty road toward her clinic, he wondered where a decision like that had come from. Cursing, he searched his vest out of habit and remembered he’d stopped smoking the fancy cigars the doc disliked. Son of a…

Making things worse, his mother, Dodge, had been the one to break the news. So much for a gentle blow. He scuffed the heel of one boot across the upraised wooden plank in need of repair. It was rare for Tess to mention Boston, other than the aunt and uncle who’d raised her remained there. He leaned against the porch, snatched his hat off, and ran his fingers through his hair. He’d given up long ago trying to figure the stubborn woman, but he’d never considered she would leave Cheyenne. He might as well have been hit, head on, by the afternoon train. At least that would have put him right out of his misery and for good.

Scanning across town, he slapped the hat back on his head and inhaled a ragged breath. It was after dark and quiet, except for the echoing piano from the saloon, and the lone horseman riding toward the end of town. The clip-clop of the horse’s hooves beat right along with his racing pulse. Most shops were closed, but the few lanterns hanging in doorways added to the glow that gave him a clear view of the doc’s clinic. The very least she could have done was to tell him herself. Damn it all to hell!

How could she think of leaving when she well knew how he felt about her? And while he’d never held back where she was concerned, she had always remained an arm’s length out of reach. He’d gotten several dances out of her at the spring festival, thinking he’d made a little progress. But now, her leaving Cheyenne—well, she just couldn’t do that. And she’d known good and well what she was doing by telling Dodge, her best friend, first.

He stomped off the porch, spurs clinking. The doc would be madder than a wet cat at him for confronting her, but she could tell him her own version of this story and right damn now. A decision like that didn’t come out of the blue, not for a woman like Tess who went toe to toe with the roughest men in the west. Apparently, it was time he laid it all on the line, offered her all he had and married her—if she’d have him.

Passing the livery with its coarse smells of horses, manure, and leather, he stepped up to the clinic and inside without bothering to knock, the tiny bell on the door jingling. Medicinal antiseptic replaced the earthen odors of the animals, startling his senses.

Tess called from the back, I’ll be right there.

At the sweet sound of her voice, every nerve in his body frayed. She couldn’t leave, could she? He glanced around the clinic, the place Doc called home, with its crisp white washed walls and organized office. Flowers in vases sat on her desk and the floral pictures hanging on the walls held a welcoming warmth. She couldn’t leave all this behind—she couldn’t leave him.

She emerged, halting as her glance grazed him. Wyatt?

It was clear she was wise to why he’d come this hour of the evening, and there was no sense in holding back. Boston?

Her eyes widened as she stepped toward the counter, resting both hands on the corner. I decided a few days ago.

I have to find out something like that from Dodge? Panic scored through him at her acknowledgement of her plans, and he wanted to reach out, pull her to him, and shake some sense into her. This was all wrong.

She folded her arms but never dropped her gaze. I was going to tell you. I’ll leave…within the month, I suppose.

He jerked the hat from his head and turned away trying to gather his thoughts. He’d always been good at reading those around him, and she wasn’t speaking her heart. But as upset as he was, she always melted something deep inside him, though the impact of what was happening shredded through him. He had to watch his temper. If he riled her, she would say no more and order him from the clinic. But there had to be a way to convince her she was making a mistake, the biggest of her life—and his.

She took a long deep breath, her breasts rising with the effort, tempting his quick glance. My uncle has secured a position for me at one of the hospitals in Boston. There are so many new practices and procedures for me to learn there.

He cocked his head, not believing a word of it. She was the best physician throughout the Wyoming and Colorado territories, and people sought her care for miles around. You could show those big city doctors more than they could ever teach you.

She considered him, those deep green eyes holding him hostage. There are so many new surgeries and treatments for me to learn. It’s an opportunity to be with my family again. A new start.

A new start? Yeah, he’d like to start by pulling the pink ribbon from her long brown hair so it would spill across her shoulders. It didn’t help that her soft brown skirt and pink blouse accented the fullness of her rounded curves, one of the things he loved most about her. She wasn’t dainty or petite, and while it seemed to bother her, to him, she was fully a woman. He held her gaze, and her eyes glistened. Was she working up tears? Hell that would be the death of him.

Doc, you know my feelings…for you. He whispered, his pulse exploding from his heart. God, he loved her, and this couldn’t be happening. He stepped closer, close enough to inhale the sweet scent of her lavender soap.

I can’t pass up this opportunity. Her voice trailed off as she avoided his gaze.

Why couldn’t she look at him? He shook his head and raised his voice to a stern whisper. I did what you asked. I quit smoking the damn cigars. I rarely drink at the saloon, and I’ve turned down numerous bounties. He lifted her chin and gave her no choice but to look at him. And I haven’t been with any woman in more months than I can count!

It was true. He’d quit the things she’d protested and done so of his own accord. He could get over the cigars, whiskey, and even letting bounties pass him by, but giving up the pleasures of a woman…well, there wasn’t anything right about that, though he’d yet to think of any woman but her for years now.

I’m sorry. Her shoulders drew up, and her hands fell to her sides.

He backed up so he wouldn’t be tempted to grab her and plant his lips right against hers. So, that was it? She was determined to leave, no matter his feelings? The tightness in his chest took all his air, and being so close to her confused his thoughts and body. He quickly faced the door, trying to make sense of it all.

Your hat. The tenderness in her words stopped him, and he turned to her again. She held his hat in her hand, intending to hand it to him before he left. Well, he wasn’t leaving, in fact he was about to change both of their lives for good. The loud click of the bolt echoed across the silent room, the bell jingling with his clumsiness. He wasn’t going anywhere until she admitted her heart, whether or not he had the power to make her stay in Cheyenne.

He walked to her, stopping so close she fought to keep her footing, dropping his hat as he tugged her closer. "I know you have feelings for me and right here, tonight, you’re going to admit it. I can offer you a new life. I can give you all I have for a lifetime, Doc."

Wyatt, you have no right… She jerked from his grasp and darted into the hallway.

"I have every right!" He didn’t give her a chance to escape the conversation, following and wrapping his arms around her from behind. He held her against the hard length of his wanting body, inhaling. She was perfection against him, and he closed his eyes. No, he wouldn’t lose her, not like this, and now was as good a time as any.

She tensed when he placed his lips against her neck in a gentle sucking kiss, something he’d never done. She tasted as sweet as he suspected she might, and her body shuddered in response as he nipped her ear and whispered. Tell me you don’t love me, Doc. Tell me you don’t think of me when you lie alone in your bed each night. Tell me you don’t wish my hands were touching you. His lips traced her skin once more, savoring her flavor. I love you and you love me. Admit it.

Wyatt… She relaxed to his surprise, leaning against him.

His large frame shook as he tugged the ribbon from her long hair and let it splay across her shoulders, wafting his senses with the fragrant purple flowers she adored. With a gentle and fluid motion, he slid his hands to her rounded hips, the urges of his body unrelenting. Tell me, Doc.

He kissed her neck again, and she leaned harder into him. Her pulse teased his lips as he kissed further across her exposed shoulder. Soft. So damn soft. She owed him the truth and if he had to, he’d coax it from her one kiss at a time.

She shivered as he dared to lift her blouse, his hands touching under her chemise to her soft warm belly, and his world came undone. He’d never wanted another woman as much as he wanted the doc and his hands on her bare skin drove his desire.

You can’t, she whispered, as he let one hand rise to cup her breast, her sigh causing his own breath to hitch. It occurred to him a smack across his face was in order due to his being so forward, but she hadn’t pulled away. All she had to do was tell him to leave, and he’d turn and go. Then tell me to leave.

Wyatt?

So beautiful— He spun her to face him, his thoughts disheveled as he marched her backward until she was against the wall of the darkened hallway, his tender kiss the final impact. He tasted her soft pink lips as he’d always wanted to, parting them and dancing his tongue along hers. He tangled his hand in her hair, pressing the heat in his trousers against her. Tell me…you love me, Doc.

Yes… Her urgent reply cracked with emotion, as she swayed in his arms, hanging onto his shirt as if her life depended on it, but I…I can’t love you, Wyatt, not now or ever.

What kind of answer was that? What in the hell was holding her back?

I’m so sorry, but…my uncle has gone to a great deal of trouble. She tugged away from him and steadied herself, straightening her blouse.

He’d waited years since she’d first rolled into town on a wagon train with her now deceased husband. She’d been feisty enough to convince the town council to hire her, even though she was a woman, and Cheyenne had never been sorry. And he’d been there as she’d mourned her husband, and he’d waited longer than the full year required out of respect, but now it was time.

Wyatt… Tears spilled down her cheeks, tearing his heart into tiny pieces.

He didn’t let her finish, touching a finger to her lips and dropping down on one knee, taking her hands in his own. Stay here—with me, Doc. Marry me. He’d taken down the worst kinds of evil without batting an eye, but asking the woman who owned his heart for her hand in marriage, he could hardly get the words out. Let me spend the rest of my life making sure you want for nothing. We wouldn’t have to rush, and you could go to Boston for your learning, then come back here…to me. Do me the honor. Let me make you my wife.

She held his gaze, struggling through her broken words. I need to go home, and I won’t be coming back. I know it isn’t much of an explanation, but after Israel…I can’t. I am sorry, so very sorry, Wyatt.

He stood frozen; her words jolting through him as if an outlaw had sent a bullet straight through his chest. She wasn’t fickle and meant what she said and he hadn’t any doubt she was set on her task. His thoughts shattered, and he sucked in what air he could force. He lifted his hat from the floor, juggling it in his hands as he stood again. There were no words, nothing he could say, but he memorized her and leaned in to kiss her cheek. He swallowed the dry lump in his throat and spoke the one truth of his heart in a whisper. I’ll always love you, Doc. And with a small brush of his hand against her cheek, he strode past her and out the door, leaving her and all he’d ever loved behind in his wake.

Chapter One

Denver, Colorado, 1880

Six months later…

Wyatt McCade dismounted. With its rowdy saloons and businesses, Denver hadn’t changed much since his last run through town. He tied his horse to a hitch and pulled each of his revolvers, checking the barrels. Fully loaded. Adrenaline coursed through him, upping the ante as he peered down the cluttered street. Town was busy, making the job before him rather challenging, but it was evening, and the last rays of sun were turning the town golden. People browsed along the streets, and shopkeepers stood in doorways. Teams of wagon-hitched horses clopped along, kicking up dirt, and men on horseback, sprinkled the rutted streets.

A sudden change in wind brought a lingering stench, making him chuckle at the idea the odor could be from Abe Warner, the man he’d been tracking, instead of from the local slaughterhouse. The outlaw and his counterpart were most likely inside the saloon he’d been watching, the largest in Denver for the most part. He’d been on them for close to a month, waiting for the wanted man to slip up. Rarely did he give the men he hunted this much of his time, but Warner, at best, was unpredictable.

He glanced at the saloon. He’d have to plan with care to take Warner alive, though he’d been less than careful the last few months since leaving home. He’d put himself in a number of gunfights with outlaws and renegades that had nearly cost him his life, but he’d landed on his feet as usual. No doubt his brothers were searching for him, but it was his mother, Dodge, who would bear the brunt of the worry. She’d understood his reasons for leaving Cheyenne, and her one request had been that he’d stay in touch by wire—something he’d yet to do. While she had always afforded him time away, this wasn’t the anniversary of his father’s death, or some other like event where he needed a few days to gather his thoughts. This time it had been—Tess.

He glanced down at his hands, the rounded curves of her womanly body still rode there as he’d held and kissed her the night she’d turned down his proposal. Maybe he was crazy, but he still tasted the warmth of her tender full lips and held the weight of her body against him when he thought of her. He tilted his hat back, using the sleeve of his arm to wipe away the lingering sweat across his brow.

He’d tried to forget her, push the doc out of his head, but it hadn’t worked and he’d learned long ago there was no sense dwelling on things he couldn’t change. She’d made her decision, turned down his proposal and was by now all the way to Boston, no matter her heart—and his. She loved him. She did, but something stronger than he could understand had ripped her right from his clutches.

He bent to check the knife in his boot, that, and his revolvers the surest things in his world anymore. Tess’ rejection had torn him apart and not having her as a daily option would have killed him, so he’d left home never looking back. He dusted the trail from his new shirt, trying to clear his mind, as any time she entered his thoughts, all reason left him. She would be settled in Boston by now, more than two-thousand miles away, and he was in Denver, doing what most men suffering a broken heart did—work hard, every damn day.

His captures the last few months had topped any bounty hunter in the West. He’d brought in or brought down man after man, earning his name in local papers and filling his pockets. And while he couldn’t care less what the news printed, something happened to a man when the woman he loved walked away.

He glanced across town once more, setting his sights on the saloon and forced the Doc from his mind. If he played it well, he’d take Abe Warner, right under the local sheriff’s nose. A smile moved across his lips. Denver’s sheriff, Chance Barlow, was as corrupt as the town itself and when he wasn’t tangling with the likes of wayward outlaws, the man was smuggling bootleg whiskey and opium all over the west for a wealthy Chinese man called Chan. The same man who operated the slaughterhouse outside of Denver as a cover for the sale of illegal goods. And it likely didn’t help matters that Barlow owned the saloon where the outlaw was spending his loot.

Patting the horse, he trotted across the street toward the saloon. He’d be known inside, so there was a short time to snag Warner without Barlow’s notice. Stepping to the porch he peered inside, finding no signs of Warner or the man with him. They were upstairs with the saloon girls, giving him the advantage of surprise if he were a guessing man. His gaze settled on the far end of the long bar and swore in a staunch whisper. Shit.

Hudson Collier sat alone, a shot of whiskey before him. That meant one thing; his sheriff brother had sent the deputy to find him. He ducked away and rounded the saloon, fighting another burst of curses. While he could use the deputy’s assistance, he would do better with help of another sort. He stopped in the alley behind the saloon and fixed his sights up at Mattie’s window. It wouldn’t be the first time the high-priced madam had been of service, and if he moved fast no one would take notice as he climbed up the back of the building, a path he’d known for a number of years.

The alley was vacant as he pulled his six foot-two frame onto the lower roof with a chuckle. He peered through the edge of the curtained window into her plush room. Empty. Well, at least he wouldn’t be interrupting her with one of the high paying men she serviced.

He lifted the window and slid the linen shade back. Struggling, he pulled himself through the half size window and stifled a groan as he stood erect again. A splash from the water closet off Mattie’s room drew his attention and a smile spread across his face as he twisted the knob. Swirling steam wafted around him as he stepped inside. The tub was full, but—no madam. She couldn’t be far and he stepped further into the room and froze as the blade of a knife edged his throat. Son of a bitch!

Looking for someone cowboy? Mattie’s stern whisper broke the silence.

He gingerly raised his hands into the air. Bounty hunter, no cowboy here.

Wyatt, I’ve told you about sneaking in on me. I’ll end up slitting your throat one of these days. She lowered the knife to her dressing table, her chocolate eyes scolding as he turned to face her.

Oh, but what a way to die. Her scantily clad body was worth a second glance, but there was no time to spare as he shuffled past her back into the bedroom.

She tugged her robe across her shoulders, her dark hair flowing down her back. Something tells me you aren’t here for the pleasure of one of the ladies.

He removed his hat and listened against the door. Two men came in a few hours ago. The man I’m tracking has red hair and beard.

Wyatt, I don’t want my girls at risk. Every time you come in here— Her gaze narrowed and she threw her hands on her plump hips as he interrupted her.

We’ll watch out for your girls. He’d always made sure to keep her and the other women out of harm’s way, but with Warner things might be rather difficult. The outlaw was good with a gun and not afraid to use it.

We? She stepped closer and flipped the badge he wore for appearance with her fingers. "At the rate we are going, you owe me one of these badges you wear when you’re playing deputy. Red’s at the end of the hall, the other man two doors down. Hudson’s downstairs. Said he was waiting on you to show."

He narrowed his gaze on her knowing eyes. He was well aware why the deputy was in Denver. When did he get here?

She dropped her robe and fitted a full black lace gown over her dark corset as she talked. A few weeks now. You know Sawyer sent him.

He tugged his gaze from her luscious body with a bit of reluctance. She was a beautiful woman but he had no time or interest other than the matter at hand and he didn’t need his sheriff brother keeping tabs on him. I’m sure it didn’t take much prodding.

She finished the buttons to the gown with little modesty. Your family misses you, and he’s been through here several times the last few months asking about you.

Sawyer?

Yes, the sheriff himself. He’s worried. She winced, tightening the lacing around her middle.

His older brother wouldn’t rest until he’d found him and then he’d more than likely kick his ass for leaving in the first place. Worry is what Sawyer does best.

Want me to get Hudson? She trotted toward the door.

Nope, you’d attract attention and there’s no time. With her help, he could surprise the outlaw and his sidekick before they knew what was going on, and if it happened things didn’t go well then Hudson could pick up the pieces.

You know Chance will take anything you shoot up out of my pay. She adjusted her breasts, sizing up her corset with both hands and raising her brows at his lengthy view of her actions.

I’ll pay the damages. He lifted his gaze and then his left revolver. Taking in the beauty of Mattie, moved his thoughts to Tess and he shifted her from his mind. He couldn’t afford to lose focus now, though a brief sense of regret washed over him once more.

Mattie grabbed two derringers out of the top drawer of the bedside stand, keeping one in hand and stuffing the other in her corset with great care.

If Red gets wind of this, you get out of here. I’ll take the other man first. Maybe he should have let her go for Hudson and tackled the situation alone, so as not to put her in harm’s way.

She gave him a smirk as was her typical air of mischief and followed him into the hallway outside the door. Pointing to the rooms he needed to invade, she took her place outside the one that held Warner’s counterpart.

He winked. Some part of him was aware that not going for Warner first could be a problem, but he needed to cut the man’s chances of having any help.

Mattie held tight to the small weapon as he listened at the door, grunting sounds coming from inside. Well enough. His lip curled into a smile and Mattie rolled her eyes. This would be easy, but keeping the man quiet would be the first task at hand.

He gave a series of nods. On the third, Mattie used her key and pushed the door open. He wasted no time racing across the room and placing the revolver against the man’s temple. He froze between the young woman’s legs, breathing heavy. Lucky enough, Mattie’s girl had stifled a scream as Mattie bolted the door behind them.

Not a word. Move off her, slow. He held the gun steady, aware one yelp from the man and Warner would be on him in seconds.

As the outlaw shifted, the young woman, motioned by Mattie, scooted out from under him and slipped into the closet across the room. The hidden escape would keep her from being noticed.

He placed a knee against the man’s back and glanced at Mattie.

She opened the drawer of the dressing table behind her and pulled out a noosed cord without making a sound.

He held it, giving her a curious grin as he worked it around the man’s wrists.

There are times we tie men—to escape. She hissed in a whisper.

You’re getting the wrong man, mister. I ain’t done nothin’. The man spat, keeping his voice low as Wyatt flattened his face to the pillow.

Not another word.

At least give me my damn pants. The old bed creaked with his effort to turn.

Mattie took advantage by stuffing the man’s own dirty sock into his mouth as he growled in protest. She used the second sock to tie the gag in place to assure his silence.

Wyatt nodded with satisfaction. Mattie was without a doubt a woman to avoid tangling with if it came down to it. He made quick work with the butt end of his revolver across the man’s temple, rendering him unconscious and tying him to the bed frame.

A little too mouthy? She smiled, but then averted her gaze toward the closet, aiming the derringer.

Wyatt lowered his already poised revolver with a curse as Hudson emerged, hat in hand. Shit.

The deputy smiled a big toothy grin. Saw you ride into town right after Warner. Should’ve known your hind end would be up to no good. You’re gonna need some back up.

I got this. He considered the one constant friend he’d had over the years, and besides his brothers, a man he trusted with his own life if it came down to it.

Not alone you don’t. Hudson folded his arms, his smile fading.

Warner’s in the last room. Reckon I don’t need to tell you to watch yourself. He hissed, going to the door to listen once more. For months now he hadn’t needed anyone or anything and it was no gamble that he never would again. Had it been months? It might as well have been years, but he shook Tess from his thoughts once again.

Hudson gave a satisfied nod, checking his revolver. Warner’s not feeling any pain, downed half a bottle of Barlow’s rotgut a short time ago. How long you been on him?

Long enough. He growled.

Hudson glanced at Mattie. Go on Mattie, get yourself away from this.

She tried to protest, but he took her by the elbow and urged her through the escape of the closet, turning back around. Where ya been, Wyatt? Haven’t seen hide nor hair of you in months.

He took a disgusted deep breath. Nowhere and everywhere. It was the best answer he had for the always chipper deputy. He owed no one an explanation, save Dodge, who would most likely take a switch to him even if he was a grown man.

Hudson followed him into the hallway and asked nothing more. He pulled his second revolver outside Warner’s door avoiding the urge to roll the barrel for good measure, not wanting the noise to alert the bastard. If he didn’t handle it right, they were dead men. He hesitated outside the door, the silence disturbing, but there was no need to wait another minute. With a single nod to his long-time friend, he kicked the door open, bolting inside. He ducked and rolled coming up on one knee with both revolvers poised toward the bed.

The woman in the bed screamed, tugging the covers high, as a gun rested hard against Wyatt’s back, knocking the breath from him. Across the room, Hudson rose to his feet, eyes wide and revolver held steady.

Sneaking up on a man is a dangerous thing, bounty hunter. Warner poked him hard in the back with his weapon. I’ve known you were on me for a while, McCade. What kept you?

Wyatt met the deputy’s gaze from across the room, no words needed at this hell of a situation. I bide my time when I need to.

Drop the weapon, Deputy Collier, the outlaw ordered, jabbing the revolver once more.

It was no surprise the man knew them both, but Hudson held his weapon on the red-headed renegade, a stalemate at least for the moment.

Now, or I’ll unload this gun right through him. Warner chuckled, shoving the weapon against him again. Might just enjoy that.

Wyatt gave a slight nod, and the deputy bent with reluctance to lower his revolver, holding his hands up at mid-chest. He was fast and could draw up the weapon again in less than a second, but the situation was dire for them both.

Now yours, bounty hunter. The bastard hissed through clenched teeth, behind him.

Wyatt held onto the revolvers for a second more. Hell, what a predicament. Warner would kill him in nothing flat one way or the other, but he wanted Hudson safe. So this was it. Fight or die.

Nice and easy, The rough speaking bandit nudged him again.

He winked once at Hudson who gave him a slight frown. He bent to set his revolvers to the floor, taking his time to place the heavy weapons with care in order to stall a few seconds more. All he had now was the knife in his boot, but he wouldn’t go down without a fight. He rose slowly, and his world began to flow in slow motion. The hard coursing of blood through his veins rang in his ears as he came to full height and without any hesitation snapped his head back, catching Warner right in the nose with the full force of his weight. The satisfying crunch was followed by the outlaw’s groan of pain and the clatter of his revolver hitting the wooden floorboards.

Wyatt hit his knees, nearly senseless from the blow to his head. He shook his head, grabbed his revolver with his left hand. At the same time, Warner and Hudson exchanged gunfire. Yellow smoke and the smell of gunpowder filled the room as Wyatt spun around and cocked the hammer, firing a round toward the bastard.

Warner’s body jerked from the impact of the bullet that caught him in the chest, and he fell to the floor with a thud.

Wyatt jumped