by Lyndi Lamont

Dodge City, Kansas, June, 1876

He was waiting for her when she got home.

It had seemed like any other afternoon. When classes were over, Esther had walked home through bright June sunshine. The spring rains were over, and the streets were dusty. School was almost over and a long summer stretched ahead of her. The rough-and-ready part of town was already filling up with buffalo hunters and the first wave of cowboys. At night, lying in her lonely bed, she could hear the tinny sounds of pianos from the saloons along Front Street, shouts of drunken men, and the occasional gunshot.

She entered the front hall of the boarding house she’d lived in since coming to Dodge and greeted her landlady who was sweeping the floor. “Good afternoon, Mrs. North.”

“Back from school already, Miss McFarland?”

“Yes. Only two more days and we’re done for the summer.”

The plump little lady smiled pleasantly. “What are your plans for the summer?”

“I haven’t any,” Esther said, unbuttoning the jacket of her blue serge walking dress. She’d grown warm during the walk home. “I’d love to go back to St. Louis for the summer, but I’m afraid I can’t afford the train fair.”

“Do you have people there? I thought you were an orphan.”

“I am,” Esther admitted. She still felt a pang in her heart when she thought of the parents she’d lost to cholera as a young child. “When I was younger, I worked as a housemaid for a doctor and his wife. They took me in, educated me, nurtured me…”

Mrs. North smiled sympathetically. “They sound like fine people.”

“They were.” Esther swallowed the lump in her throat. She missed the kindly older couple who had treated her more like family than a servant. She smiled at her landlady and climbed the stairs to the room she called home. Thinking of St. Louis always left her feeling unsettled. The Henleys weren’t the only ones she missed.

But that was all in the past. Here future was here, in Dodge City, where women were scarce. If she couldn’t find a husband here, she deserved to be an old maid.

She entered her room, dropped her books on her desk and went into the screened-off sleeping area to hang her jacket in the armoire.

She froze in place when she heard the click.

Turning around, she saw him, lounging in her rocking chair, black Stetson pushed back on his head, Colt.45 in his hand. He looked tough, lean and sinewy, his face bronzed by wind and sun, his bright blue eyes a startling contrast. One Levi's-clad leg hooked over the arm of the chair, he appeared strangely at home.

Her heart raced and blood pounded in her head. She knew who he was. She’d seen his face on the wanted posters. Had known he’d come for her.

He’d changed some since the picture was drawn. His thick, tawny-gold hair was longer, shaggier, and he’d grown a mustache. She stared at his mouth, the finely chiseled lips curled in a sardonic smile.

He pointed the gun at her. “Take it off, teacher. Take it all off.”

Her gaze riveted on the lust in his blue eyes as she tried to assess his unreadable features. Unable to look away, she slowly unbuttoned the bodice of her white blouse; her hands trembled, making her clumsy. He watched her every move with an intensity—a masculine hunger—that unnerved her. Sparks of unwelcome anticipation shot through her.

She unhooked the waistband of her skirt and let it fall to the floor, then shrugged the blouse off her shoulders.

She removed her bustle and petticoat and then unhooked her corset, leaving her in nothing but her chemise and drawers. He said nothing, just eyed her with a look of scorching intent, from the top of her head to the tips of her sensibly clad feet, then up again. His gaze lingered on the vee between her legs and she felt the moisture of desire.

He cocked the hammer of his gun. “Take down your hair, schoolmarm.”

She reached up to pull the pins from her bun and her nipples tightened against the thin gauze of her chemise. Her long, dark hair fell around her shoulders and chest, brushing against her already sensitive breasts.

“Now the rest of it,” he ordered.

© 2005 by Lyndi Lamont

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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