Reese

  Reese

  The Rock Creek Six

  Book 1

  by

  Lori Handeland

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  Please Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Copyright 2001, 2011 by Lori Handeland. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

  Cover art by Elizabeth Wallace

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  eBook design by eBook Prep www.ebookprep.com

  Thank You.

  The Rock Creek Six Series

  (in series order)

  now available in eBook format

  Reese

  Sullivan

  Rico

  Jed

  Nate

  Cash

  For Linda Jones, who,

  with grace and tact,

  made writing a series easier

  than writing alone.

  Chapter 1

  Mary McKendrick had reached the end of her tether, which did not happen often. She prided herself on managing everything, even the unmanageable. But after days spent on a lurching stage to Dallas, then hours slogging through the mud of what was supposed to be a dusty town and still not finding the den of iniquity she searched for, her much-admired patience had gone the way of the whistling Texas wind.

  In Rock Creek, Texas, Mary was the schoolteacher. Before she’d come to Rock Creek, she’d first been a schoolteacher outside of Richmond, Virginia, until the damn Yankees burned the place down. Then she’d gone on to teach in Bittersweet, Missouri. Bloody Jayhawkers burned that place too. She was in Dallas today because she did not plan to be run off another job in this lifetime.

  “Any Time. Any Time,” she muttered as she stomped down another boardwalk. “You’d think I could find one saloon named Any Time.”

  Suddenly, as if in answer to an unspoken prayer, there it was—a saloon named Any Time. Did that mean the place was open day and night?

  Surely there were rules about such things, even in Dallas. What did it matter? As long as the saloon was open now—and from the sounds of the music, the laughter, and the clinking of glass, it was—she needed to get in there and do what she’d come here to do.

  Buy herself a man.

  And not just any man, but Reese—gun for hire. They said he was the best. They said he always got the job done. They said… Well, they said a lot of things, but who were they, anyway, and was any of what they said true? Mary hoped so, because she needed a man like Reese, even though men like him were the one thing that frightened her. But Mary Margaret McKendrick was not a woman to let fear keep her from doing what must be done.

  So she pushed through the swinging doors and stepped into her very first saloon.

  The smell hit her first—smoke and whiskey and too many bodies. The next thing she noticed was a sudden silence—no talking, no clinking glasses, no music—because everyone stared at her.

  Well, she suspected they didn’t get too many schoolteachers in here. Her gaze flicked over the assembled crowd, mostly men with guns, women with too few clothes, and a great, big bartender, who scowled at her as if she meant to start trouble.

  Trouble? Her? Not hardly.

  “I’m looking for Reese.”

  “Upstairs. Third door on the right.”

  Mary blinked. Could it be this easy? Nothing else ever was. “Just like that, you tell me where he is?”

  The man shrugged. “You don’t seem the type to shoot him in his bed.” He frowned and peered at her from beneath his too long, unkempt hair. “Is that what you’re planning?”

  She gave him her best Miss McKendrick glare. Instead of backing down, he grinned. “Didn’t think so. Third door on the right. And tell him he pays me what he owes me tonight or he’s out.”

  Mary pondered that piece of information. Sounded as if Reese needed money. All the better for her.

  Turning her attention to the staircase at the back of the room, Mary’s unease returned. To get to Reese, she would have to walk through all those people. No one spoke. No one moved. They continued to stare at her as if she were some exotic creature escaped from a traveling show.

  Sweat trickled between her breasts. Though she spent most days in front of a room filled with staring eyes, those eyes belonged to children, not rough, armed men.

  She straightened her spine. Rough, armed men were her problem. They were the reason she was here. To meet the lion in his den. Hire a monster to frighten away all the monsters.

  The heels of her boots clipped in staccato rhythm as Mary crossed the plank floor. The hem of her dove gray traveling costume slapped wetly against her ankles. Without the crinoline she’d left at home to accommodate the horse she’d ridden to the nearest working-stage stop, her skirt had dragged through the mud all over Dallas.

  Tired, wet, and dirty was not the way she wanted to meet Reese, but then again, she didn’t care what he thought of her. She only cared that he came to Rock Creek. Would what she had to offer be enough for the mysterious and dangerous Reese?

  At the top of the stairs, third door on the right, Mary knocked—three firm taps of her knuckles on the scarred wood. The sounds echoed throughout the saloon.

  “Come.”

  One word, softly uttered, yet she heard it clearly. She reached for the doorknob, and her fingers shook. Yanking back her hand, Mary made a fist. This would not do.

  “Come, come, come,” the voice ordered, impatient now.

  Before she could think any further, Mary opened the door and stepped inside. As soon as she shut it, the noise started up downstairs, making her jump, but the buzz of sound from below soothed her more than the waiting, listening silence had.

  Just enough sun seeped around the curtains to throw the room into shadow. Despite the ghostly gray light, she could still see the man lounging on the bed, wearing black pants and nothing else.

  Well, there was the gun in his hand, but Mary hardly counted a gun as clothing. He studied her for a moment, then uncocked the weapon and laid it next to his leg. They stared at each other.

  He was the most interesting man she’d ever seen. That might have had something to do with his naked chest—something else she’d never seen—but she didn’t think so. This man was striking. Once you saw him, you would not forget him. Mary doubted she ever would.

  His hair was gold, several shades lighter than his skin, and tousled, probably from sleep. He could use a shave. The beard on his jaw looked at least two days gone. The hair on his chest was darker than the hair on his head, more the shade of his beard. The chest captured her attention, lean and firm; a flat belly was framed by black pants. The top button hung open, revealing that the curling hair, which appeared so soft, trailed below his stomach, down, down, down to—

  “Seen enough?”

  Mary yanked her
gaze to his face, embarrassed to have been caught ogling. This was business. Even if he chose to meet a strange woman in his room without a shirt or shoes, that did not mean she had to stare. Though it was hard not to.

  She cleared her throat. “You’re Reese?” Best not to even mention his state of undress or ask if he could open the window, since the room had gone hot and stuffy.

  “Who wants to know?”

  His voice flowed over her, reminding Mary of things best forgotten. Magnolia trees in springtime, Virginia in the rain, a place that was long gone and never coming back.

  “Mary McKendrick,” she blurted to stop her eyes from burning. She should offer her hand, but there was no way she was going to approach that bed or let him touch her while he lay half-naked.

  “What do you want?”

  He wasn’t one for small talk. Well, that suited her just fine. “You.”

  His eyebrows shot up, and then his gaze wandered down her body, making her hotter than before. She found she didn’t like being stared at by a man. She wasn’t beautiful, wasn’t even passably pretty. She was too tall and too thin to be fashionable, although she did have a few curves in appropriate places.

  Oh, her skin was fair enough, except for the freckles on her nose, and her eyes were blue, sometimes. Most times they were just dull gray. And her hair, which was some undefined color between brown and blond, curled with wild abandon whenever she did not bind it closely to her head. Her hair was bound now, tightly enough to give her a headache, which meant her long, thin nose and high cheekbones seemed more pronounced.

  She looked exactly like what she was—a twenty-four-year-old spinster schoolteacher. She was smart, dependable, and sturdy. What she was not was flighty, flirty, or petite. Thank God.

  Still, the way he stared at her… For one tiny moment she wanted to be everything she was not.

  Then his gaze flicked to hers. Mary’s eyes had adjusted to the dim light well enough to determine that his eyes were green. Captivating, if they hadn’t been so cold.

  “You want me for what?” That voice again, this time a low growl—Southern, sinful, suggestive. Those words, combined with his tousled hair, naked chest, and long, slim, bare feet had Mary stuttering. Mary never stuttered.

  “F-for a-a job.”

  He sat up in one fluid motion, all smooth skin and honed muscle. “Where?”

  “Rock Creek.”

  “What?”

  “Th-there’s a group of bandits. They ride out of the hills, take whatever they can carry, shoot the place up a bit, and disappear. They robbed the stage so many times we’ve been left off the route. Now people are leaving. My town—I mean the town—will die.”

  “No law?” She shook her head. “No soldiers?”

  “I sent word to the fort, but they refused to come. Said all the trouble with the Comanche means they can’t spare any men for us. Stealing and breaking windows isn’t much of a crime in Texas.”

  “I suspect not. Tell me, Miss McKendrick, why are you here? What makes Rock Creek so special that you’d come all the way to Dallas for me?”

  Mary wasn’t going to explain about her past and her dreams to a man she barely knew. “I’m the schoolteacher.” His eyes narrowed, and his lips tightened. For some reason, he didn’t care for her profession, but what Reese cared for was not her problem. “I have no family. I could be spared to come.” She didn’t add that this whole thing had been her idea.

  “What about your men?”

  “The war.” She shrugged and spread her hands. “We’ve got a preacher, old men, young boys, cripples.”

  And Baxter Sutton, the shopkeeper, but since he could hide faster than any woman in town, Mary didn’t think he was up to leading them against the enemy.

  “That’s all?” Reese asked.

  She nodded, not trusting her voice anymore. The way Reese spat out questions made her more nervous than being alone in a room with a strange, half-naked man. When he stood up and walked toward her, she lost her power of speech altogether.

  He moved like a wild animal, with a combination of barely suppressed violence, boundless energy, and a loose-hipped grace that made her mouth go dry. She’d seen cougars in the hills, and they stalked tiny live things just as this man stalked her.

  He came too close. Mary’s back bumped the door.

  “How much?” he whispered, and his breath brushed her hair.

  Despite the heat of the room, the heat of him, she shivered. Why had she thought she could meet a beast in his den and come out unscathed?

  She stared straight ahead, not wanting him to see that his nearness rattled her, but her eyes were level with the pulse that thudded calm and sure at his neck. Her own heart pounded entirely too fast, in perfect disharmony with the rasp of her breath in the still of the shadowed room. Mary yanked her gaze from the hollow of his throat and met his eyes.

  “How much?” he repeated.

  “Everything.”

  Reese smiled a predatory smile. If Mary could have retreated any farther, she would have, but her back was against the wall—literally.

  He put a hand on each side of her head and leaned close. The muscles in his arms bunched. His chest rose and fell directly in front of her face as he took a deep breath.

  “Well, now, I’ve never been offered everything before.” His voice had gone south, from Virginia to Georgia, the lilt she loved deepening, trilling along her spine like a feather. “Would everything include you?”

  Mary’s mouth fell open; she was that surprised. She must remember he was not a gentleman despite the refinement of his voice and the culture in his words. She had come here alone, offering him everything; of course he thought she was offering herself. What surprised her was that he had even asked. Men simply never looked at her that way—until this one.

  “You’re gonna catch flies.” Reese put one finger below Mary’s chin and pushed her mouth closed.

  The heat of his skin startled her; her response to it disturbed her more. Because she wanted this man to keep touching her, and that was something spinster schoolteachers just didn’t go around wanting.

  “Everything most certainly does not include me, Mr. Reese.”

  He flinched and stepped back. “Just Reese,” he snapped, and turned away.

  His back was as beautiful as his front, and the sight distracted Mary. All that smooth bronzed skin over supple, shifting muscles. He had an odd scar, low and large, but the single imperfection only served to emphasize the flawlessness of the rest.

  Mary shook her head to clear the sudden and odd fascination with this stranger’s body, breathed more deeply now that he did not tower over her, and got back to business.

  “I will pay you all the money I have to come to Rock Creek and make them stop.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to be so crass as to ask for an exact figure, Miss McKendrick.”

  “One hundred and fifty dollars.”

  The muscles in his back tensed, released, then started to shake. Mary was alarmed for a moment until she realized he was laughing.

  “I fail to see anything humorous in that number. From what I heard downstairs, you appear to be short on funds.”

  He stopped laughing. “You seem to have heard a lot about me.”

  “Word travels.”

  “Doesn’t it, though?” He turned, and his face was grim. “How many of them?”

  “Fifteen. Sometimes a few more, sometimes a few less.”

  This time, his mouth hung open. At least he wasn’t laughing. Mary crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. “You’ll catch flies, Reese.” She frowned. “Is Reese your first name or your last?”

  “Both.”

  She doubted that, but his name was irrelevant as long as he did what she asked.

  “You think I can take care of fifteen men alone?” He tilted his head, considering her for a moment. “Just who told you about me, anyway?”

  “Man called Rourke passed through. Said you were the fellow to talk to for a job like this and th
at I could find you here.”

  “Well, wasn’t that mighty nice of him?”

  “I thought so.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he appeared more like a cougar in the night than ever before. “I’m going to have to bring some men along with me.”

  “You’ll come?” Mary could have cursed the hope that lit her voice. She did not want him to know just how desperate they were. Men like Reese preyed on desperate folk, and the folks in Rock Creek had been preyed upon enough.

  He stayed silent so long Mary thought he might yet refuse. Her fingers dug into her arms to keep herself from reaching out and begging him. Doing so would get her nowhere with Reese.

  After what seemed like an eternity, he sighed. “Well, hell, everything is a damn sight more than I’ve got right now. I’ll come, with five others.”

  “Six of you against fifteen of them?”

  “Best odds I’ve had in a month of Sundays.”

  “These men must be good.”

  “Together I’d say we’re downright magnificent.”

  “And your friends will come?”

  “They’ll come,” he said, but he didn’t look happy about it.

  *

  When the door closed behind Mary McKendrick, Reese shrugged into a shirt and started searching for his boots. He had no time to waste if he was going to find the others and get to Rock Creek within two weeks, as he’d promised.

  Now Reese was a lot of things, but when he took a job, he did the job, and what he promised, he delivered. That was the only way to stay alive and keep the jobs coming.

  Two minutes after she’d stepped into his room, Reese should have sent Miss McKendrick on her way. But he never could resist helping a good woman in trouble. Call it a curse. He certainly did.

  He should never have gone near her, but she had drawn him like a fly to melted sugar. And like that fly, he’d been caught, because despite the mud on her skirt and the dust in her hair, she’d smelled sweet and clean and good. Just the scent of her, combined with the soft sound of surprise she’d made at the back of her throat, had aroused him in ways the women he allowed himself these days never could.

  She wasn’t even pretty, but Reese had learned long ago that pretty didn’t mean shit in this ugly world. He’d seen women so beautiful, they made you want to weep, yet underneath they were snake mean. But Mary… There was something about Mary that made him ache, deep down, where it hurt the most.