She smiled to herself, exhilarated at the thought of the battle ahead. She knew McCulloughs type. If she played him right, the stallion Cochise Red was as good as hers.
Chapter 2
Bronco stood with his back and one foot propped against a corral fence post and watched the eastern sky turn from indigo to purple to mauve, to a gaudy shade of salmon streaked with gold. Ordinarily sunrise was his favorite time of day-something in his genes, he guessed, remnants of an ancient reverence of his fathers people for the Creator Sun. But this morning the appearance of that molten sliver brought him no joy. This morning it was only a prod and a portent: Time to go-bad times coming. He and the woman must be well away before they got here.
Lauren Brown. He knew Gil figured she was his trump card, but Bronco knew for a fact that taking her would prove to be the biggest mistake McCullough ever made. He also knew there was no point in trying to tell the commander that; Bronco had run into officers like him before. A smart man but arrogant, and a fanatic on top of it-a bad combination, especially when combined with some real power. It was such men, Bronco believed, who made the decisions that lost wars and turned the tides of history.
By this time, though, he himself was pretty fatalistic about the whole thing. The commander had been dead-set on this plan, and now that hed put it in motion, Bronco figured there wasnt much anybody could do to stop it. A bad business, destined for a bad end-for somebody. Bronco meant to make damn sure it wasnt him.
He glanced at his watch, then looked over toward the small split-log building with the reflected glow of pinkish-yellow light showing in its barred window. After a moment he straightened and pushed away from the fence post. Her ten minutes was up. He slapped his gloves once against his Levis, then drew them on and headed for the saddle house. On the way he couldnt help but notice that his boots were hitting the hard dirt in the same rhythm as the song inside his head, the one that kept singing: Shes bad newsbad newsbad news.
But the picture in his mind that went with the song didnt look like bad news. It was the picture of Lauren Brown walking into Smoky Joes last night, looking like a Texas sunflower
Johnny Broncos Saturday-night routine was a well-established tradition at Smoky Joes Bar and Grill. Hed generally arrive around seven oclock, choose his favorite table along the back wall near the rest-room door and order a hamburger medium well along with the first of what usually amounted to about six beers. Hed work on the burger and the beers between trips to the dance floor and the mens room and trying to hit on any good-looking women that happened to be in the place, until along about eleven, twelve oclock when hed pick a fight and get himself thrown out on his butt. The regular patrons of Smoky Joes didnt seem to mind this, had even come to expect it as an essential part of the evenings entertainment, and the management didnt hold it against him as long as nothing got broken and nobody got hurt.
Anyway, people around there tended to cut Johnny Bronco quite a bit of slack, just as they had way back in the days when hed been the hometown football hero, all-conference wide receiver and all-time leading scorer for the White Mountain Mustangs. Locally, there were two things a man could do that would pretty much guarantee him universal respect: be good with a football or be good with horses. Johnny Bronco happened to be both. It was a pretty sure bet that after the kind of show hed put on out at the rodeo arena that afternoon, he wasnt going to have to pay for very many of those beers.
The regular crowd in Smoky Joes had been so enthusiastic in their congratulations, in fact, that by the time Lauren Brown walked in at eight-fifteen Bronco was well ahead of the game. There were three long-necked bottles lined up on the table in front of him and a fourth cradled against the front of his bright red dancin shirt, and he was grinning and keeping time with the heel of his boot as he watched the energetic bunch on the dance floor muddle through the steps of Elvira.
He knew the minute she walked in. Hed been watching for her, of course, but even if he hadnt, shed have been hard to miss. Hed already noticed she was tall for a woman, reed-slender in her snug-fitting jeans and expensive stack-heeled boots and a waist-length scoop-necked knit shirt the color of sunflowers. She was the kind of woman who looked her best astride a horse-or a man, for that matter. Long strong legs, round firm breasts-not too big, just the right size to fill a mans hands with nothing going to waste. And then there was that hair-a thick curving fall to her shoulders, the exact shade of winter grass on a cold sunny day in the high country. He could almost smell its fresh sweet fragrance, see it ripple when the wind caught it.
Bronco checked his watch again and smiled to himself. Fifteen minutes late-just enough to let McCullough know she wasnt at his beck and call, not quite enough so that hed be able to justify getting pissed off about it. Hell, shed just bat her baby blues and show him her dimple, and ol Gil would have no choice but to chalk it up to feminine privilege. A dangerous combination for a woman-headstrong and smart. Bronco knew hed do well not to underestimate her.
He reminded himself of that now as he lifted the bar away from the saddle-house door. He was half expecting her to ambush him with the coffee mug; he hadnt missed the way her eyes had sharpened when hed handed it to her, or the barely imperceptible tensing of her wrists as shed tested its weight. She was gutsy, that one, on top of headstrong and smart.
He was relieved when he found her more or less where hed left her; hed had to hurt her once, and it was something he hoped never to have to do again.
She was sitting on the cot with her overnight bag on her knees. He could see her knuckles whiten on the handles when she saw him, as if she wanted nothing in this world so much as to chuck it at him. He couldnt blame her for that, or the fact that her voice, when she spoke, was taut with rage.
You went to my motel room?
Bronco grunted. Well, I didnt personally.
I suppose you-they-somebody checked me out?
He twitched a shoulder. Didnt have to. You know those Motel 6 kind of places-theyre generally pay in advance.
So, you-they just cleaned it out. Packed up my things. Her voice burned with frost, in sharp contrast to the warm pink blossoming in her cheeks. You went through everything?
Bronco didnt bother to answer that, just lifted a pair of saddlebags from a sawhorse near the door, smacked them once to get rid of some of the dust and tossed them to her. If theres anything in there you want to take along, better put it in here. And do it fast. Were leavin. Now.
She threw him a look of pure hatred, which strangely enough he found exhilarating, rather like watching a bolt of lightning rip across a slate-black sky. He hid his smile from her, though; it wasnt going to do either of them any good to make her madder than she already was.
She threw him a look of pure hatred, which strangely enough he found exhilarating, rather like watching a bolt of lightning rip across a slate-black sky. He hid his smile from her, though; it wasnt going to do either of them any good to make her madder than she already was.
He stood and leaned against the door with his arms folded across his chest and watched her transfer the contents of the overnighter to the saddlebags. He was trained to be observant, and it struck him that her movements werent quite coordinated, as if she was trembling violently inside. And not all from anger, he imagined. There was fear there, too, as hard as she might try to hide it. He tried to imagine what it must be like for her, one minute to be going about her business and then without warning to find herself forcibly taken prisoner, with no idea why or what it was all about or what was going to happen to her. He thought she was holding up pretty well, considering.
Although, as smart as the lady was, he wouldnt be a bit surprised if shed gotten the whole thing figured out by now.
Finished with her packing, she rose and put herself to rights, shaking each foot to settle the pant legs down over the tops of her boots, jamming her shirttails any which way into the waistband of her jeans, skimming back her hair and fastening it with a rubber band shed retrieved from the saddlebags. Efficient, Bronco observed. No nonsense, no fuss, and a surprising lack of vanity for so beautiful a woman. For a woman soon to become one of the worlds most famous and recognizable.
Ready?
She was standing before him with the saddlebags over one shoulder, storm-cloud eyes almost level with his. He was aware of a disturbance in his insides as he gazed back at her, a sensation that felt oddly like thunder rolls.
Got a jacket? he drawled, keeping his eyes veiled.
She cut him a look that was pure acid. Are you nuts? Its August. This is Arizona.
He didnt argue with her. Hed find something for her to wear. She was going to learn soon enough how chilly a summer monsoon could be at seven-thousand-feet elevation.
Instead, he opened the door and held it for her with mocking gallantry, which she acknowledged with a look that for once he couldnt quite figure out.
I should never have danced with you, she muttered bitterly as she passed him.
To that, Bronco could only add a fervent, if silent, Amen.
He wasnt quite sure why he was doing it; he did know for sure it wasnt going to make his bosses happy. But hell, he was Johnny Bronco, and if he didnt try to hit on the prettiest girl in the place at least once tonight, people were going to think something was wrong with him.
He placed the fourth beer bottle, now empty, on the table, lining it up precisely with the three already there, then pushed back his chair. He wove through the noisy crowd, rocking his body slightly in time to the heavy country beat, aware of the glances and smiles that followed him on his way. But his step was steady, a self-confident swagger; if he kept to his usual timetable, the effects of the alcohol werent due to kick in until beer number six. That was still a good two hours off. This was party time.
McCullough saw him coming and waved him over, relaxed and jovial. Lauren turned to see who was moving up behind her, and when she did, her hair rippled across her shoulder blades like a sea of long grass when the wind touches it. Bronco saw the flare of recognition in her eyes, heard the sharp hiss of her breath. Then she was facing forward again while he traded greetings and shot the usual masculine bull with Gil.