Comanche Cowboy (The Durango Family) Read Online Free Page A

him.”
    “I’d pay more if I could,” she said, “but that’s all I’ve got.”
    He tipped his hat back, his expression a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “I told you I’m not for hire. Now you’ll just have to find another handy man, errand boy, or whatever. By this time tomorrow, I expect to be headed back down to the Triple D if I don’t end up in jail for havin’ fun tonight.” He took a deep breath. “Sugar cookies,” he said. “No”—he leaned closer to her—“not quite sugar cookies, it’s—”
    “Vanilla,” she flushed. “Papa says only hussies wear strong scent.”
    “Vanilla! I heard little country girls used it for perfume.” He leaned closer, sniffed again. “Umm. I like that.”
    For a moment she thought he would put his face right down into her hair, but then he seemed to remember and straightened up.
    “I saw the way you handled yourself in there.” Cayenne caught his arm, realizing how big and powerful he really was. He could have killed her with one hard blow when she foolishly attacked him in the Red Garter. “You’re just the man I need for this job.”
    “No. N—ooo.” He shook her hand off his arm. “No comprende, Senorita? What is this job you’re tryin’ to fill anyhow?”
    He wouldn’t ask if he weren’t curious, if he weren’t weakening. She was desperate enough to use her charm as a weapon. Cayenne looked up at him, lips slightly parted. “My papa’s sick,” she lied, “so I got to get back to our ranch right away.”
    He took a deep breath and smiled slightly. “So?”
    The words came in a rush so that he couldn’t stop her. “I need someone to escort me down across western Indian Territory to the Texas Panhandle and south from there.”
    He threw his head back and laughed. “Are you loco? Do I look like a complete fool? Everyone knows there’s an Indian war just startin’! Ma’am, you’re talking about a trip of hundreds of miles across dry, hostile country and dodgin’ Indians all the way!”
    “I’d heard there was a little trouble with the Southern Plains tribes. . . .”
    “A little trouble!” He laughed again, reaching into his shirt for a small sack of tobacco and a paper. “Lady, there’s thousands of Cheyenne, Arapaho, and Comanche on the warpath right where you’re wantin’ to ride through. It’s touch and go whether the Kiowa will join up with them.”
    “But you just came from Texas. . . .”
    “I came up the Chisholm Trail to the east of all the trouble. Even then, I was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.” He rolled a cigarette expertly with one hand.
    “But I need to get home.” She felt the crumpled letter in her pocket again for courage.
    He stuck the cigarette in his mouth, striking a match with his thumbnail. “The army’s launching the biggest campaign in history startin’ soon. Besides, the country itself is dangerous, hostile, even if it weren’t crawling with war parties.”
    “But you seemed so gallant. . . .”
    “Gallant, but not loco.” He took a deep puff, staring off into the little heat waves rising in the Kansas dust. “You know what Comanches would do with a pretty white girl like you?”
    “How would you know? You’re just trying to scare me!” she snapped.
    He frowned and his gray eyes turned tragic, haunted. When he finally answered, it was a whisper of regret. “I know, that’s all. They might not even kill you before they took that red hair to decorate a scalp shirt. And that’s the least of it. . . . ”
    She leaned forward, listening. But he said no more. The only sound was the piano tinkling again inside the saloon, the stallion stamping its hooves.
    Maverick took a deep drag, exhaling smoke as he looked down the line of weathered buildings. “I’ve got to go to the bank, then I’m headed back out to my trail herd just outside town.”
    He strode down the wooden sidewalk toward the bridge, spurs jingling. If nothing else, she was stubborn.