Georgina Gentry - To Tease a Texan Read online

  “Well,” Larado said, “after all, I am a Texan.”

  The banker fired again and Snake let loose with a string of oaths. “We’ll meet at my camp on the bend of Rock Creek. You know the place?”

  Larado nodded.

  “Then let’s get the hell out of here!”

  The fat banker now stopped to reload his weapon as men ran out of businesses carrying rifles and shotguns.

  They didn’t look like a crowd who would listen to any explanation, Larado thought. He jerked his reins from Lark’s hand and mounted up, leaving the astonished girl staring up at him as he galloped away. He wished he had time to explain to her that the whole thing was a big mistake, but there appeared to be a lynch party gathering up and he didn’t intend to be the honoree. At the end of the street he and Snake split up, each heading a different direction. When he looked back, Lark still stood there with her pretty mouth open as if she were catching flies. Hell, he didn’t want her to think badly of him, but it was too late to explain.

  Chico was a fast horse, and Larado was a good rider, so he was soon out on the rolling prairie some miles from town. He reined in to rest his lathered mount. “Larado, you damn fool, how did you get yourself into this mess?”

  Last night he had lost almost everything at cards when he never should have gone in there. He wasn’t a very good poker player, but he’d been desperate. Today, he’d gone into a bank, blown his nose, and was suddenly in the midst of a bank robbery with people shooting at him. Then he discovered he was still holding on to the bank bag Snake had dropped in all the confusion. He hefted it in his hand. “Pretty lightweight, must be all bills.”

  Money. This morning he had been flat broke except for his gold watch and his horse and saddle. Now he held untold riches in his big fist. His first inclination was to turn around, go back to town, and turn it over to the bank. “Are you loco, Larado?” he muttered to himself. “They’d have you swingin’ from a rafter of a barn before you could tell them it was all a big mistake—even if that fat banker didn’t shoot you first.”

  Snake. That rascal had gotten him in a lot of trouble, but maybe Snake hadn’t meant to—maybe he was just like Larado, always being misunderstood. Snake had taken some buckshot in the arm and might be bleeding to death somewhere. Even if he didn’t much like the hombre, it wasn’t like a Texan to abandon a man who was in a bad way.

  Larado turned in his saddle and looked behind him, squinting in the early morning sun. He didn’t see a posse coming yet, but it shouldn’t take too long for one to form up and come looking for the two bank robbers. “I reckon I ought to light a shuck for Texas, bein’ as how as I got all this money and that posse may be hot on my trail, but I can’t leave Snake hurt and bleedin’ somewhere.”

  The camp on the bend of Rock Creek. Yep, he knew where that was, and certainly Snake trusted him to meet him there. It didn’t make good sense to alter his course, but then, Texans might be brave but they weren’t always known for their good sense. Maybe he could convince Snake they’d be better off to explain to the law that it had all been a big mistake and return the money. He turned Chico to the east and headed for Rock Creek.

  Lark had stood gaping in surprise as the two yanked the reins from her hands, mounted up, and put the spurs to their horses. “Land’s sake, what—?”

  She didn’t get a chance to finish as the two galloped away. It was pretty obvious what had happened, with the fat banker waving his shotgun and men running from every direction. “Those two killers shot down my poor teller in cold blood!” he wailed. “And after I give them the money, too!”

  “Lynch ’em!” the barber yelled, and the cry was taken up by the others. “Dirty robbers, we’ll string ’em up. No need to wait for a trial.”

  Another man paused to stare at Lark. “Hey, that gal was in on it. She was holdin’ their horses and bein’ the lookout.”

  “No, you’re mistaken.” Lark drew herself up proudly. “I know nothing about this.”

  “We’ll deal with her later,” the blacksmith said. “Let’s get saddled up and get them outlaws before the trail gets cold.”

  Men appeared from everywhere on horseback and in buckboards. “Come on, Mr. Barclay,” one called to the banker. “We’ll need you to identify them.”

  The fat man clambered up into the rig, still hanging on to his shotgun. “I’ll give ’em a double load of buckshot for killin’ my teller,” he vowed.

  “Shouldn’t we wait to be deputized?” another man asked.

  “Oh, hell no!” another swore. “We ain’t gonna do nothin’ official, just string up a couple of polecats.”

  The whole mob took off out of town in a cloud of dust and jingling spurs, leaving Lark and a curious hound dog staring after the posse.

  “Oh my, now what am I supposed to do? They’ll never believe I wasn’t part of the plot. All I was trying to do was get the next stage.” She looked up and down the street. A few curious women and some children were poking heads out of windows to see what the excitement was about. The stage must be running late. In a few minutes, some of the posse would surely be returning to arrest her.

  “That damn Texan,” she muttered. “If he hadn’t had such a charming grin, I wouldn’t have tried to help him last night and got myself fired. Now look at the mess he just got me into.” In her mind, she imagined revenge, like maybe tying him down, Comanche style, on a bed of red ants. His charming, lopsided grin might fade then.

  What was she going to do? By the time the stage got here, she’d be wearing handcuffs and locked up in the hoosegow. “Think, Lark, think. This mob isn’t going to listen to your explanation. What would your smart sister do?”

  Lacey wouldn’t get herself into a mess like this in the first place, she decided, not over some big, stupid cowboy. For a moment, there didn’t seem to be anyone on the streets. Picking up her small valise, she hurried down the nearest alley to get out of sight. Maybe she could hide there until the stage came though. Land’s sake, that wouldn’t work—they’d stop the stage and check it first thing, or at least go on to the next town, knowing she might get off there. Damn that Texan. That grinning cowboy had gotten her into more trouble in half a day than she could get out of in a week of Sundays.

  Behind the barber shop, an old gray horse stood dozing, hitched to a wagonload of manure. “Well, any transportation beats nothing.” At least this was one way she bested Lacey. Lark had always been a tomboy and could ride and rope and shoot like a man. She’d been happiest on her uncle Trace’s ranch, but she’d been sent off to school with her smart, perfect sister to Miss Priddy’s Female Academy in Boston in an attempt to turn Lark into a lady. It hadn’t worked.

  Lark considered taking the wagon, then decided a woman driving a wagonload of manure would attract too much attention. Instead, she unhitched the old horse and took his harness off. Hiking her dark blue skirts, she swung up on the bony back, balancing her small valise before her. She slapped the old horse on the neck and he started off at a slow walk.

  “If I ever get my hands on that cowboy, I’ll wring his neck!” she vowed. “He’s cost me my job, got me tangled up in a bank robbery, and now I’m a horse thief on the run—riding a fugitive from the glue factory.”

  Which way to go? If she went due south along the stage route, that might be the first place a posse might look. Maybe if she rode to some settlement off the beaten path, she could get a job, or at least stay out of jail until she could decide what to do next.

  The old gray horse had a backbone like a razor that cut into her bottom. If she were a real lady, she would only ride sidesaddle. “Who are you kidding?” she said. “Ladies don’t steal horses, especially not a nag tied to a manure wagon. Your prissy sister would have an attack of the vapors if she knew what her twin was doing.”

  That made her smile to picture it. However, there was nothing funny about her predicament, Lark thought as she rode. She wondered if the posse had caught the pair. Funny, she might have expected something like this from the ugly,
scar-faced one, but she’d thought Larado was just a Texas cowboy dealing with some bad luck. He didn’t seem like a bank robber. “Now, Lark,” she lectured herself, “how would you know what a bank robber was like—have you ever met one before?”

  Of course not. She’d lived a sheltered life on her uncle’s big ranch until she’d been sent away to school, failed there, came home, felt she had to compete with her twin, and run away. It was just so much easier to flee than compete.

  As the day passed, she rode to the outskirts of a small town and drew in. “Whoa, old horse. This place looks pretty isolated. Maybe I can hide out here until things blow over.”

  She dismounted, turned the old horse back the way they had come, and slapped it on the rear. It broke into a dead walk and started up the road toward Buck Shot. “At least they won’t get me for horse stealing.”

  She watched the gray nag until it disappeared over the horizon, knowing it would return to its own stable. She smiled as she pictured the puzzled owner trying to figure out how that old horse had gotten out of its harness and unhitched itself from that wagon.

  With any luck, she’d find a job and start fresh—a respectable job. She hadn’t been cut out to be a saloon girl. If that damned Texan should ever show up here, she’d make him wish he’d let the posse get him. The posse. Even now, the two might be dangling from a cottonwood tree. “That would wipe the grin off that devilish face,” she said to herself. Still, the thought bothered her. He’d been too charming for any woman not to care what happened.

  Her bottom was so sore, she could hardly walk and her blue dress was covered with dust. As she limped down Main Street of this settlement, she made up an excuse about how a passing wagon had given her a lift. Damn that Texan, anyhow.

  Larado galloped into the Rock Creek camp and dismounted. Dixie waited there on this cool morning. She wore a tight red dress, and there was a rented buggy tied to a nearby tree.

  “You seen anything of Snake?” he asked.

  “No.” Her painted face seemed guarded.

  “Well, he told me to meet him here. We’re in a real mess, Dixie. With that buckshot he took in the arm, I was afraid he might not make it.”

  She didn’t seem too concerned about her lover’s health. “Looks like you got all the money.”

  He shrugged. “Reckon I got some.”

  “Hell, to tell the truth, cowboy, he’s already been here and gone. You and me ought to skedaddle together.”

  Larado swore under his breath and shook his head. “I didn’t reckon he’d double-cross me. What’d he say?”

  “Not much. Gone off to find a doctor, I reckon. Told me to tell you he hadn’t showed up, and he’d meet up with me later.”

  Larado tied his horse to a tree, took the bank bag, and tossed it onto the ground by the fire. “Hell, I never meant to get mixed up in no bank robbery. It just happened. Now we got a posse after us.”

  Her blue eyes gleamed as she picked up the bank bag. “Kinda light—you get away with much?”

  “Reckon it’s all bills.” Larado sighed as he knelt by the fire and poured himself a cup of coffee from the big tin pot. “I don’t aim to keep it. I was gonna talk to Snake about straightenin’ this out by returnin’ it.”

  “You must be loco,” she sneered. “You get away with bank cash and you want to turn it back? Think of what this could buy, Larado.”

  “But I ain’t a crook,” he said. “I don’t think Snake intended for this to happen.”

  “You don’t know Snake. He get much?”

  “He got one bag, just like me. There’s a posse maybe on my trail, Dixie, you should clear out.”

  “Go with me. Don’t you want to know where Snake’s gone?”

  He shook his head. “Reckon if he’d double-cross me, it don’t matter. I’m gonna figure out how to return this loot and head back to Texas.”

  She ran her tongue slowly over her lips. Her scarlet dress was so tight, it showed her voluptuous curves. “Take me with you, Larado.”

  “What? I thought you was Snake’s gal.”

  She shrugged, coming over and to look up at him. “I liked what I got the other night. You and I could be a pair.”

  Before he could speak, she slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him—a long, lingering, sensual kiss that made him gasp in surprise and drop his coffee cup. For a moment he wanted to grab her, throw her down on the blanket by the campfire, and take her right then, knowing how warm and ripe she would be. Then he saw the image in his mind of a tall brunette in a dark blue dress staring up at him as he took the horse and rode away. He reckon he owed that Lark girl an apology. Maybe when he went back to return the money, he’d hunt her down and explain how everything happened.

  He reached up and untangled Dixie’s arms from around his neck. “This ain’t right, Dixie.”

  She laughed, a hard, brittle laugh. “Neither is robbin’ a bank. You remind me of a gambler I used to know, Larado, a man I really cared about. Take me with you and I’ll make you glad you did.”

  “Naw, can’t do that.” He pushed his Stetson back. “I’m broke and there’s a posse lookin’ for me. I ain’t gonna add to my troubles by stealin’ Snake’s girl.”

  “Are you loco?” she demanded as she confronted him. “I told you he’s already deserted you, probably figurin’ the posse will find this camp soon enough.”

  “I’m a Texan, Dixie, I’m as good as my word.”

  She said something obscene, walked over, and picked up the bank bag. “Well, let’s just see how much you got away with.”

  “Won’t do you no good, I ain’t keepin’ it.”

  She ignored him and pulled the drawstring, shaking the bag. When she did, a bundle of cut newspaper fell out in a shower and fluttered to the ground. “What the—?”

  Larado strode over and knelt by her side, picking up a fistful of paper. “This can’t be. Why would a bank keep chopped paper in their safe?”

  Dixie shrugged. “Well, I reckon the joke is on you, Larado. You didn’t steal no money after all.”

  He wiped his face with his bandana. “Hell, that’s a relief. Maybe when the banker tells them we didn’t get no cash, it’ll all be a big joke.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it. You think Snake’s bag has real money in it?”

  “How would I know?” Larado shrugged. “Didn’t he open it while he was here?”

  “Uh, no, he was in too big a hurry.”

  “Then he’s the one you’d better go with, Dixie. He may be a rich man.”

  She favored him with a smile. “It don’t make no never mind, cowboy, I’d still rather go with you.”

  He shook his head again. “Sorry, sweetie, but one can travel faster than two, and I’m broke. Since I didn’t steal no money, I reckon I’ll ride on to Texas and lose myself down there. When you see Snake, tell him about the fake bills, will you? I wouldn’t want him to think I tried to cheat him.”

  “Oh, you Texans. I don’t know whether you’re stupid or too principled to live.” She gave him a beseeching look. “I ain’t known many men with principles, Larado. Take me with you. I promise you won’t regret it.”

  He was already striding to his horse. “There’s a posse lookin’ for me, so you don’t need trouble like that. I’m givin’ you some advice; clear out before that posse shows up. Go back to town and wait for Snake to find you. And when you see that tall Texas gal….”

  “Yes?”

  He mounted up. “It don’t make no never mind. I reckon she’s mad as a rained-on hen for the trouble I caused her.”

  “You mean about losin’ her job?”

  He paused, pushed his hat back. “No, about this mornin’. What about her job?”

  “Oh, you didn’t know? Joe fired her last night.”

  “That’s a damned shame. Why did he do that?”

  She wasn’t about to tell him about the cat fight. “For pourin’ beer on you. She was a lousy barmaid. So long, Larado. If you ever change your mind, I’ll probably be right her
e workin’ at the Last Chance unless something better comes along.”

  He nodded to her, turned his horse, and loped away.

  Dixie stood there watching him until he was a dot on the far horizon. She could have cared about the lanky cowboy—only the second man she’d cared about in a long string of men that began when she was a ragged girl in Atlanta. Dixie was the bastard child of a Yankee soldier and a desperate slut from a Georgia cotton patch. Dixie’s whole life had been a battle to survive.

  What to do? Snake hadn’t showed up yet and might not if a posse was after him, or even if it wasn’t. Larado said he’d been shot, but he had a bank bag. She’d be a sitting duck waiting for that posse if she got caught with this bank bag, even if there was no real money. Now she wondered how she could turn this mess to her advantage. After some thought, she gathered up the bank bag and the chopped newspaper and put them in the campfire. The flames leapt as the evidence burned. She took a stick and stirred the fire, then watched until everything was burned beyond recognition. What should she do now? There was always the chance that Snake’s bank bag was full of cash, and Dixie was greedy. She intended to end up with whatever Snake had stolen.

  In a few minutes, Snake rode into camp on a lathered bay. “Hallo the camp!”

  “Come on in,” she yelled. “I’m the only one here.”

  He rode in and dismounted, tossing the bank bag at her feet. “Here you go, baby.”

  “Oh, you’re hurt.” She feigned concern at the blood on his sleeve, but her gaze was on the bag.

  He shrugged, looking at his bloody sleeve. “A few shotgun pellets from that damned banker. Not as bad as I first thought. There’s probably a posse behind me, so we need to clear out. Larado show up?”

  “Uh, no. Was he supposed to?” She was angry at Larado for spurning her.

  Snake began to curse. “He seemed pretty honest or maybe just stupid. I dropped one of the bags when we ran out of the bank and Larado picked it up. We were lucky to get away. All we had was pistols and that banker had a double-barreled shotgun.”