"Allie." His mouth came over hers in a slow, hot kiss. Her lips opened under his, her tongue touching his, delving into his mouth, mating with his. She suckled his lower lip gently, and he groaned into her mouth.
His hands roamed across her shoulders, framing her sides, then cupping her breasts. She moved closer into his touch, offering herself to him. He knew she wanted him to take her now, before he left, thinking this might be the last time.
But it wouldn't be. He fully intended to settle all scores today. He was going to kick some ass, and when he returned, he'd put in the rest of a day's work alongside the boys. After that, a bath. He'd want to wash off the filth of having to deal with Tom Carver and Arnie Smith, along with the honest sweat of the day before he made love to Allie.
He lifted his mouth and whispered, "Tonight, Allie. Tonight, when we make love, everything'll be settled. Tomorrow, we'll go into town for supplies," he added meaningfully. "I don't think there'll be any more trouble."
"Brandon, please let me come with you. I can't bear to be here – waiting."
It was almost on his lips to agree, but he knew the distraction would be too much. "I can't go into this knowing you could be hurt. Promise me you'll stay here, Allie. I can do what needs to be done with a clear mind if I know you're safe."
She reached to brush his hair back, her touch lingering on his cheek, committing his face to her memory, in case the unthinkable became a reality. He smiled as her fingers tightened around his arms.
"I'll be back, sweetheart."
"You're so sure." It was a statement rather than a question.
"I'm sure." He lifted her chin when she looked down. "I promise," he murmured. "I promise."
She nodded. "I believe you, Bran. I believe in you. But I still worry—"
He shook his head, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles. "That's my job, Allison; not yours." She didn't reply, and he went on. "I'll take Jay with me to point me in the right direction, but I'll send him home before we get too close."
She nodded. "I love you. Don't ever forget."
He grinned and leaned toward her to give her another quick kiss. "I know it. You can show me tonight."
"Count on it." She smiled reluctantly, worry still shadowing her eyes.
He reached behind her for a couple of the warm biscuits. "For Jay and me—"
She handed him two more. "You won't see a crumb if you only take two."
He laughed, starting for the door. "I'll be back in a while." He opened the door and turned to her one last time. "It'll all be fine. I promised."
****
"Hello, the house!"
Doc sat up from where he leaned over Arnie Smith's side. The sound of the voice from outside was young. A teenager. Not Brandon Gabriel. Doc looked at Arnie, and then turned to face Tom Carver.
Tom was lounging against the wall with his rifle trained on Doc's head.
"Will you put that thing down, for chrissakes?" Doc said. It aggravated the piss out of him to have a gun held on him. Made him nervous, and he was doing the best he could do under the circumstances, whether Tom had his gun trained on him or not.
Tom gave him a surly look. "Don't try anything stupid. I'm goin' out to see what he wants, send him on his way – whoever he is. You just sit tight." He snickered. "Arnie ain't goin' anywhere for a while."
He opened the door, still carrying the rifle. Doc stood up quickly and pulled the curtains back enough to see through the side of the window. His heart jumped. Sam Johnson! And Owen – what the hell? He didn't say anything, though he knew Arnie was waiting for him to comment.
"Who is it, Doc? Anybody we know?"
He couldn't risk telling Arnie Smith a damn thing. He shook his head. "No. A young man and his father, it looks like. Just passing by, most likely."
"Kind of out of the way."
"Probably lost."
Arnie shook his head. "Never believed I'd end up like this." He grimaced, trying to lie back on the thin mattress. "Three bullet holes in me. I thought Tom was a friend. And I damn sure never believed for a minute Allie would do what she done."
"Quiet, Arnie. Let's see if we can make out what they're sayin' out there."
It wasn't hard, once Smith shut his yap, to hear the ongoing conversation.
"…on our way back East," Owen was saying, extending his hand to Tom.
But Tom was wary. He took a step back, not lowering the rifle. "Best be on your way. There's plenty of daylight left."
"Trouble is, mister, my boy, here, twisted his ankle. He's going to need a place to rest." Owen smiled. "We saw your cabin and knew the Lord had found favor."
Owen and Sam started toward the cabin once more, and Tom cocked the rifle. "I'm not receiving today," he murmured. "Like I said, there's daylight left. You best make use of it."
"Please, mister," Sam said. "My ankle hurts somethin' fierce. We need to rest—"
"There's someone else in there," Owen interrupted.
Doc let the curtain drop. He knew Owen hadn't truly seen him. In the space of four strides, the die was cast. Owen threw open the door amid Carver's cursing. His gaze met Doc's for the briefest instant, with no hint of recognition. Then, he turned slowly to stare down the barrel of Carver's Winchester.