My Desperado by Lois Greiman Page A

then lifted to Lacy's face, her hand still clasping Daisy's sleeve. "He didn't kill the mayor."
    The room was silent.
    "Daisy." Katherine turned her face desperately to the English girl's. "You know he didn't."
    "But 'e killed plenty others, miss. 'E's dangerous, and—"
    "Oh, hell. We know he's dangerous, Daisy. Now where is he?" snapped Lacy.
    Katherine wondered if there was a bounty on his head. She'd read all about bounties in her novels. She backed against the door now, fatigue causing her knees to shake. She'd gone through a great deal of trouble to keep Ryland alive, and wasn't quite ready to see him dead yet. "He's well hidden," she said soberly. "You won't find him. He didn't do it." Katherine held Lacy's gaze, fighting back the swirling cloud that threatened to spill her onto the floor. "You won't find..." she said, but Lacy's face dipped and swerved. The floor bucked upward, and she fell, her dark hair spilling around her like a black tide.
    The unearthly beauty of the music stopped, the melodious strains peacefully floating into darkness to finally become mixed and confused with screams of terror.
    "Nooo!" Travis shrieked, clawing his way to the surface of reality, fighting back waves of memory and sleep. "No!" He jerked himself upright, frantically searching for a weapon.
    "It's all right." Both Katherine's hands clutched his arm. Her face was close to his, her eyes beautiful in the flickering candlelight.
    "Rachel," he breathed. "Rachel."
    "It's all right." Her face was so solemn and sweet. Her hair loose and dark. "We're safe."
    Travis could not lift his gaze from her face. She was just as she should be. Soft and sweet and strong. "Safe?"
    "Yes."
    "My leg hurts." The words were right. It was his voice that surprised him. It was deep and mature and confusing.
    But, of course, if Rachel had grown, he would have done the same.
    "They got the bullet out." Her tone was soothing and husky, having lost the girlish lisp she had had as a child. "You're going to be fine now. Lie back."
    Her fingers were warm against the bare flesh of his arm as she helped him settle against the pillows. "Sleep," she ordered gently, but he could not. Awful things waited for him in the guise of dreams.
    "You're safe?" he asked tentatively. His hand had caught hers.
    "Yes."
    "Not hurt?"
    "No."
    He nodded, loosening his grip with an effort. "So smart," he breathed softly. "You were always so smart." His head hurt, but he scowled and tried to think. "Soldier?"
    "He's fine, hidden where no one will find him," Katherine soothed. "He sends his love."
    Travis nodded again. Rachel always knew what to do. Always knew. His lids drifted shut, but darkness threatened to take her, and he wrestled them open, shifting his eyes quickly to find her face again. "Rachel?"
    "Yes? I'm here."
    "I love you," whispered the small boy in the man's body.
    Travis slid unsteadily from a dream, not sure whether to hurry from the disturbing remnants of slumber or hold to the dark images allowed by sleep. Past experience had proven reality to sometimes be worse than his nightmares.
    He opened his eyes warily.
    The ceiling was white. His arm hurt like hell, and his right leg was numb, but no ropes bound his hands, his ribs didn't burn, and it wasn't raining.
    He'd learned to be grateful for the little things.
    It was a woman's room. He wasn't certain how he knew, but he knew. There was a window to his right. It was curtained with lacy drapery, holding back the bright light of day.
    He turned his head, drawing in his perceptions carefully.
    In the past—however long it had been since he'd first met the lady with the seductive voice—he'd been bound, nearly hanged, shot, half drowned, and dragged by his horse over some godforsaken side of the Rocky Mountains. He remembered it all so vividly now that the images startled him, making him decide it might be wise to be cautious.
    Examining the room further, Travis stopped his gaze as his attention snagged on a curled feminine