Desert Dreams by Deborah Cox Read Free Book Online Page B

couldn't say, but it felt
liberating to let it go. She made a silent vow then and there never to think of
Borden McKenna again, never to look back, to keep her eyes fixed on the future.
    She reached up to touch the locket that wasn't there, and the
pain of loss twisted in her heart. It was the last thing her father had ever
given her, that and the money spread on the bed before her now. She would go to
the bank and try to turn that inheritance into a home. Perhaps her father could
provide something for her in death that he never could have given her in life.
    , * * * * *
    The crack of a gunshot echoed across the empty desert.
    Rafe sat Bolted upright with a gasp, suddenly wide awake. He was
panting and covered with sweat. It took him a moment to get his bearings and
remember where he was.
    Texas, yes, Texas. Five years separated him from that hideous
memory, five years and a thick wall of defenses.
    "It was just a dream," he said aloud, as if they
could protect him, as if they could wipe out the past and the pain that was
every bit as strong today as it had been then.
    He squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand through his damp,
tousled hair, then threw off the covers and got out of bed.
    In the early morning darkness, he stumbled to the washstand
across the room, poured water into the basin, then splashed it over his face
and bare chest.
    "Goddammit!" he said aloud, bracing himself with
his hands on either side of the washstand, shivering in the aftermath of the
dream. It was always like this afterward: the tremors, the nausea, the impotent
fury.
    The dream had haunted him for five years now, but lately it
seemed to be visiting him more often than usual, as if his own mind were attacking
him. It would give him no rest until he took the vengeance that had been his
single reason to go on living and fighting, even in the darkest times when he
would have almost welcomed death.
    Grabbing a towel, he dried his face and chest. Useless regret
and guilt twisted in his gut until he found it almost impossible to breathe.
    Even time couldn't dull some memories.
    He studied his reflection in the cracked, faded glass.
Running a hand over his stubbled chin, he tried to
remain detached, tried not to study too closely the man who looked back at him,
afraid of what he might find there. He'd been chasing after animals for so long
he had almost become one of them. His single-minded quest for vengeance had
left a permanent scar on his soul. It showed in his eyes, he didn't have to
look to know that.
    He walked across the room to the corner where he had dropped
his saddlebags, closing his mind against the vestiges of the nightmare, against
any emotion. It was his only defense, and it was getting harder to maintain
with every day that passed. A constant battle raged inside him, a battle for
control. If he ever lost control, he didn't want to contemplate what might
happen.
    As he unfolded the clean shirt he took from the saddlebag,
something fell out and hit his bare foot. He bent down and retrieved the locket
by its gold chain. Looking at the trinket made him think of its owner, and a
bitter smile twisted his lips.
    His cracked thumbnail worked at the catch. It still smelled
of her, a faint, hauntingly feminine scent that was hers alone.
    "Empty," he said aloud.
    The locket was of the finest gold, crafted with care by a
master jeweler. The piece might easily be an heirloom. And yet its owner could
not find one image among all her possessions dear enough to wear close to her
heart.
    Nothing about her made sense. She was like a puzzle, and none
of the pieces fit. He shouldn't care. The less he knew about her, the better.
    But the memory of her soft skin, her dark violet eyes, and
the way she'd felt in his arms made him forget for a moment that she was a
complication, nothing more, a complication that had already cost him four
hundred dollars in bounty money. When he realized she was leaving San Antonio
on the stage, there was no way he could have