My Desperado by Lois Greiman Page B

form that slumbered by his bed. It was her! Travis closed his eyes and swore in silence. Why was she here? She should be long gone by now, halfway to Philadelphia, or wherever the hell it was she came from.
    He opened his eyes. She was slumped in a nearby chair, close enough for him to touch her. Her hair was braided again, but coiled now atop her small head, which rested against the padded wing of the floral fabric.
    Her pale, scathed hands were lax in slumber. Her dress was not noteworthy, but her face... There was something about her face that made his chest ache to look at it. It was heart-shaped, with a shallow, delicate dimple in the center of her chin, and a dark peak of hair extending just a smidgen of an inch down the middle of her forehead. Dark, thick lashes rested over her hidden eyes, and her strawberry-tinted lips were slightly parted, exposing small, even teeth as she exhaled softly.
    "Rachel." He breathed the word without realizing, and the woman scowled, her hands fluttering gently as she drew herself quickly from sleep.
    He knew the exact instant when she came fully awake, for her lovely, dimpled jaw dropped slightly and her eyes opened to enormous widths.
    Her eyes! They were not honey brown as he'd imagined, but were an unearthly shade of silver-blue, like the mountain sky after a heavy rain.
    "Mr. Ryland." She breathed his name almost like the prayers Rachel had taught him as a child. Travis felt the words quiver like a well-aimed arrow in his gut.
    She was a dark-haired angel, like a faded memory so dear he dared not pull it out for scrutiny.
    "Mr. Ryland." Her small hand touched his arm with gentle slowness. "You're awake."
    Travis was unable to answer her for his insides twisted into knots of hopeless mush.
    "I feared..." She stopped and studied him. Her delicate face was so close to him now, her hand feather-light on his hale arm. She smiled, the expression tremulous, making Travis feel as if he were falling like an axed lodgepole sliding toward oblivion. "But you'll be fine now. I know it."
    He needed her. Like no one else. Like he hadn't needed anything for years. Her very presence spoke to him, begged him to be a better...
    No! Travis squashed his soppish longings and remembered the school of survival with well-rehearsed practice. Never become attached. Never become involved.
    "Where the devil, am I?" he asked, his voice rumbling low and gravelly through his parched throat.
    She blinked twice and drew her hand away, caution returning to her mesmerizing features. "We're in New Prospect." She stood slowly, her back straightening. "At Lacy MacTaggart's...establishment."
    "A whorehouse?"
    He felt her retreat, though she didn't move, and an empty place near Travis's heart twisted while his mind nodded in smug satisfaction.
    "A dance hall," she corrected stiffly.
    "How far from Silver Ridge?"
    "I don't know. It took me all night to—"
    "Why didn't you get the hell outta here like I told you to?" he snapped.
    She watched him, speechless for a moment, and then, "I couldn't leave you," she whispered softly.
    His heart wrenched at the words, threatening to spill him back into living nightmares, but he'd learned to survive and survive he would. "Why the hell not?" he demanded gruffly.
    "Because..." She wrung her hands, her expression worried. "I just... couldn't."
    "Damn it, woman! I told you to ride east, and if you'd had the lick of sense you was born with, you'd still be riding."
    "You were hurt."
    For an instant he could think of nothing to say, then, "Life hurts, lady," he growled. "And I don't need no woman to go getting me killed." He sat up. His head pounded and swam dizzily, but he ignored the swirl and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
    One cotton sheet became tangled between his thighs, pulling all the blankets askew, so that they stretched out over his crotch and one hip, saving him from absolute nudity. "Where're my pants?"
    Katherine's gaze caught on his bare legs, skimmed to his bare