Whirlwind Cowboy. Debra Cowan
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her choice and it wasn’t him.
The spiraling wind swirled across the prairie, flaying his face and body with sharp bits of dirt and grit. The gunshot graze on his cheek was healing. Dragging his dark bandanna up to cover his nose and mouth, he knotted it tightly.
He was worn slick, dirty and madder than hell that this dust storm would force him to briefly suspend his search for Cosgrove, but he would find the low-down dog again. He wouldn’t stop until he did. In addition to being a rustler, Cosgrove was now a murderer. Bram wouldn’t be the only one out for the bastard’s blood. If possible, he hated the cattle thief even more than he had three weeks ago.
The wind swept around him and he barely caught his hat before it blew off. The small cabin on the edge of Circle R property was less than a mile away, so Bram directed his mount there.
By the time they reached the building, the red dust was thickening, spreading. At the barn behind the cabin, he dismounted and slid open the door. When his mount balked at entering, Bram grabbed the bridle to lead the animal inside. He understood the dun’s wariness. This storm made him uneasy, too.
The dust swirled inside, the wind noise escalating to a steady hollow hum. Bram quickly pulled off his saddlebags, unsaddled his horse, then removed the bridle.
Scout stomped, shifting nervously. Bram spoke softly, trying to calm the gelding. A clothesline stretched from the barn to the cabin and would enable Bram to find his way if the dust became too thick to see the house. Just as he bent to pick up his saddlebag, the horse backed up, almost pinning Bram to the wall.
“Whoa.” He laid a calming hand on the animal’s hindquarters and edged away from the weathered wall. That was when he saw another horse deep in the shadows.
Not just any horse. He blinked.
That looked like Cosgrove’s black mare.
No way in hell. Bram couldn’t be seeing what he thought he was.
He eased closer, noting that the animal was unsaddled and had been brushed down. Speaking softly to the horse, he lifted its left front leg, then the back one. A C had been crudely carved into the top of the mare’s rear shoe. It was slyly done, the top of the C coming out of the tack’s head, but this was Cosgrove’s horse!
The damn brand blotter had been forced to take shelter, too. Here!
Bram’s lips twisted. This was too good to be true, and he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to catch the bastard. Or kill him. After the murder committed by Cosgrove during that bank robbery, Bram would have no qualms about taking in a dead man.
Satisfied that there was enough water in the trough near Cosgrove’s animal for both horses, Bram returned to his things in the corner and slid his Spencer rifle out of its scabbard.
After checking his gun, he stepped outside. The wind nearly shoved him to his knees as he shouldered the door shut. Gripping the clothesline for support, he slowly made his way to the cabin’s back stoop.
He had the advantage of surprise, but because both the front and back doors opened into the large main room, he wouldn’t have the drop on Cosgrove for long. Once Bram opened the door, the wind would sweep in, alerting anyone in the cabin.
He slowly turned the knob, then flung open the door. He leveled his weapon, aiming straight at … a woman!
She screamed, stumbling back against the dining table and folding her arms protectively around herself.
“Sweet mercy.” Bram froze, his mind trying to catch up to what he was seeing.
There in the flickering lamplight stood a half-naked Deborah.
Deborah.
What the hell?
Chapter Two
Struggling to recover from the shock of seeing her, Bram kicked the door shut and advanced. Had Deborah been with the outlaw since she had left her home? During the whole time Bram had been tracking the bastard?
She looked terrified, her gaze darting around for an escape. That blistered him up even more. “Cosgrove, show yourself!”
Visibly trembling, Deborah eased back, putting the small dining table between them. She hit the corner, jolting the burning lamp there as she did so.
“Don’t move!” he ordered, shoving down the gritty bandanna.
She froze, looking as though she might cry. Closed inside as they were, the wind had faded to a low vibrating hum. Keeping his gun trained on her, Bram yelled again, “Cosgrove!”
In the hazy yellow light he could see Deborah go pale. That wasn’t all he could see. Thanks to the soft amber light, the sleek lines of her body were plain through the thin fabric of her summer chemise. The undergarment and a pair of sturdy brown shoes were all she wore. Where the hell were her clothes?
Just the thought that the man who had taken so much from him might have seen her half-naked or more had Bram’s finger twitching on the trigger.
His gaze leveled on hers. “Where is he?”
“Where is who?” she asked shakily.
“You know who.”
Inching away, she shook her head. “I don’t.”
Her delicate features were pinched with fear and her raven-black hair slid around her bare shoulders like a cloud of midnight. Looking at her made Bram hurt. And filled him with cold fury.
She reached for the nearest chair.
“I said don’t move.”
“I need to get my dress.” Her voice quivered.
Considering how his traitorous body was reacting to the sweet curve of her hip and the fullness of her breasts visible through her chemise, he saw the merit in letting her put on her clothes.
“Stay put. I’ll get it.” He walked toward her, keeping his back to the cabin wall and one eye on her. Bits of grass and rock pelted the front window.
The dress hung over the back of a chair, a pale blue floral he recognized. He tossed it to her, dust drifting from the garment as she spread it protectively over her front, covering most of herself.
He dragged his gaze from her. “Cosgrove!” he called again.
“There’s no one else here,” she said quietly.
He gave her a withering look. “I saw the bastard’s horse in the barn.”
“I’m the one who rode that horse.” Her voice shook.
Rifle trained on her, Bram motioned her out from behind the table, keeping her in his sights. He herded her to the corner then looked into the bedroom, where a fine silt covered every surface. The room was empty.
He knew Cosgrove hadn’t gone out the front while Bram was coming in the back. The horse Bram had tracked also hadn’t been carrying two people. Deborah was telling the truth. About that, anyway. He still couldn’t believe she had been with Cosgrove.
Sheer terror darkened her blue eyes. She was probably afraid of what he would do or say about her running off with the man he hated.
The force of his anger when he thought she’d left to take the job in Abilene had been strong enough to sear his insides. But learning she’d been with Cosgrove drove a hole right through Bram’s chest.
His gaze swept over her and she clutched the dress more tightly to her. The strap of her chemise had slipped down, baring the silky skin of one shoulder. Skin he knew tasted as sweet as cream and felt that way, too.
The heat he always felt around her burned him from the inside, made him want. But since he’d realized she had left with Cosgrove, Bram could hardly stand to look at her.
“Get