Chapter Thirty-Three
The sun was beginning to rise to the east. Birdsongs filled the quiet morning air as Zachary lay upon his bedroll, holding the woman he loved in his arms. He felt a peace in his soul that he had never imagined he would ever feel.
It was amazing the way Samantha had somehow managed to change him. He'd been a gunslinger, a killer, and nothing more than that. He'd been lost in hate and anger and self-loathing. With a few tender words, warm touches and knowing looks, Sam had saved him. She was his lifeline, his lighthouse, his oasis in a desert and there would never come a day when Zachary would be foolish enough to take her for granted or forget that she was more than he deserved.
Zachary wished they could lay like this all day, but the smell of rain was heavy in the thick air and he had several things to take care of in town. Burying his nose in Sam's thick red curls, Zachary breathed in the scent of lavender and dreaded the day. Yesterday had been enough. Zachary was not a man who appreciated constant stress—he already lived his life on edge worrying that a threat could come from around any corner. Adding other people's worries to that was overwhelming. But for Samantha, for the faith she had in the man he was and could be, Zachary would accompany Caroline and go to battle with the bank and their prejudice. Then he would go to the land office with Timothy and give his brother his rightful share of everything. That was something that should have been done a long time ago and would have been had Zachary been thinking clearly five years before.
Natures' call was urgently begging Zach to get up. He knew that Samantha could sleep just a little longer. The growing cloud cover made it a bit harder to gauge but he would guess it was around six or seven in the morning which meant they had plenty of time before their ten o'clock meeting at the bank.
Sliding from her arms, Zachary got to his feet, taking time to stretch out his stiff muscles as he did so. He wasn't old but he had lived hard, and his body was full of plenty of aches and pains to remind him of that. He was ready to have a warm bed of their own to fall into every night and rise out of every morning.
A breeze blew across his bare torso, reminding Zachary that a storm was coming. He quickly walked several feet away, relieved himself behind a bush, and went to stand beside the river. Samantha had insisted on wearing his shirt to bed even though she had remembered to bring clothes of her own. She said she liked the way it felt to be wrapped up in his clothes while she slept. Zachary hadn't offered up any complaint. He happened to like the way she looked all wrapped up in his clothes.
Staring into the water flowing slowly past him, Zachary thought about how drastically his life had changed in just a few short weeks. It was a strange reality how quickly things could become permanently altered—good and bad. In a heartbeat Zachary had lost his family—and in another heartbeat he had saved a woman from being raped by a fat man in a brothel and found the love of his life. There was a voice in his head, a part of his brain that would be forever terrified of life throwing him yet another blink of an eye change and that voice spoke of what would happen if he lost Samantha. Zachary would be forever broken. There would be no vengeance to be sought—no life to attempt to build back. If something happened to that woman, Zachary would have no choice but to put his revolver in his mouth and eat a bullet.
Those dark thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Samantha's gentle footsteps approaching him. Her arms slid around his middle and her body pressed against his back. "Good morning, handsome."
"Good morning, beautiful," he replied, his body trembling at the feel of her against his bare skin. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't." Those lips laid several long kisses to the muscles and scars on his back. "You seemed so sad standing here. What's on your mind?"
Zachary laid his hands over hers on his stomach. "Just thinking of life and how quickly things can change." He knew he couldn't lie to her. Not just because his heart wouldn't allow him to but because Samantha was far too perceptive to fall for it. "How quickly things can be taken away."
Her warm breath washed against his skin as a sigh left her lips. "No one is going to take me away from you. I'm far too stubborn to allow that."
A chuckle rumbled from his chest. If there was ever a woman stubborn enough to simply tell death no it would be his woman. "I reckon there's a storm coming," he finally spoke after several long moments of simply letting Samantha hold him close.
"Yeah, it seems that way. Will the crew work in this weather?"
"Probably not. If it was only rain they would but with the looks of that sky and the way this breeze is picking up, we're in for a bad storm."
"We should probably get to town then, shouldn't we? Try to beat the weather?"
Zachary turned to face her, looking down into the green eyes and feeling his hunger for the woman in front of him roar to life. "I reckon we've got a few hours before it sets in."
His own hunger was mirrored in her gaze as Samantha all but purred and pressed herself against him. "Whatever shall we do with ourselves, Mr. Marston?"
Zachary bent a bit and laid his fingertips against the bare skin of her leg, happy that she had slept in his shirt—and only his shirt. Running his hands up, Zachary lifted that shirt, sliding his calloused hands up her pale thighs. "I can think of a thing or two," he growled before grabbing her hips and lifting her.
Those long legs wrapped tight around him as her arms slid around his neck. "Tell me what you had in mind," she teased, her breath warm against his neck. When she began to nibble at his ear, Zachary's entire body shook.
"I tend to be a man of actions not words," he reminded her as he began to carry her back toward their bedroll.
Those damned lips trailed down his neck and those teeth nipped at the column of his throat. "Show me then."
"Don't you worry none, ma'am. I'm gonna show you plenty."
Without wasting time on any more words, Zachary caught her lips beneath his and plundered her mouth—devouring the woman in his arms. He dropped to his knees at the bedroll and then laid Samantha down upon it, bracing himself over her and never breaking the hungry joining of their lips.
His let his fingertips dance once again over her exposed leg. Trailing slowly, dragging out her anticipation as she moaned and pressed herself against them, he brought his hand up her thigh, tapped his fingers against her hips, smiled as she growled out his name. "Zachary, stop teasing me."
He lifted his head and smiled. "I would never dream of teasing you, ma'am."
Raising up on his knees, Zachary straddled her hips and moved his hands to the button of the shirt hiding her delicate body from his roving eyes. Slowly, button by button, he removed that barrier and gazed at her sprawled upon his bedroll—her body trembling with the want she felt for him.
Damn a man could get used to seeing something like that.
Lowering his head, Zachary nipped at her freckled shoulders, ran his lips along her collarbones, dropped lower still and took her taut nipple into his mouth. Samantha's back arched from the ground as her hands buried themselves in his hair.
Spurred by her moans of pleasure, Zachary slid his hand up her thigh and found those red curls between her legs. As his finger slid inside that haven, Zachary found her already wet for him. Sam's grip tightened in his hair as his name flew from her lips.
Zachary continued to feast upon those breasts and pleasure the heat between her thighs. His own need grew as Samantha's moans gained urgency. When those hot walls tightened around his finger and her cries of pleasure filled the air, Zachary pressed one hot, fast kiss to her lips.
He pulled away and simply took in the sight of her. Samantha was still trembling upon the bedroll, her wild curls spread out around her and her skin flushed with passion as she gasped and gazed up at him through her long red lashes. Zachary shed his pants quickly, braced himself over her once again, and slid himself inside her.
Zachary kept his movements slow and deliberate as he moved in and out of her and her nails dug into his back and her hungry lips sought his. Damn the passion that lived inside this fiery woman made his blood pound and his heart race.
Zachary nearly cried out in shock when her legs went around his hips, tightened their grip, and twisted. He found himself lying on his back with her sitting atop him. Instantly, Zachary's gripped her hips and met her thrusts as she flashed him a wickedly alluring smile.
"Holy hell, woman, are you trying to kill me?" he growled, finding his gaze drawn to her breasts as they moved in time with her motions.
She leaned down, that wild red hair encircling him as she nipped at his neck. "No, that's certainly not my goal."
The kisses turned hungrier, the touches hotter, and the movement of their hips more frantic as they moaned and panted and lost themselves in ecstasy. Zachary knew he wouldn't last much longer and the moment he felt Samantha's walls tightened around him—he let himself go. She tossed her head back and called out his name as Zachary arched upon the ground and cursed.
Samantha fell down upon him and Zachary encircled her with his arms, holding her sweat slicked body close. Her head was resting on his chest and he knew she was listening to his thundering heart—she had admitted many times that it brought her comfort. He figured that was just fine—he could lay here just like this with her warm in his arms for the rest of his life and die a happy and contended man.
Zachary didn't know how long they laid there. The breeze chilled his skin and the sky kept growing darker with the promise of rain. Slowly, Samantha began to stir in his arms. "We should probably head to town," she whispered, sounding sleepy and content.
"We'll go to town, take care of business this morning, and spend the rest of this stormy day locked up in the hotel so I can spend some time showing you just how much this gunslinger loves you."
Her green eyes were smiling as she raised her head to gaze at him. "You aren't a gunslinger anymore, you're a rancher and a farmer. And, trust me, I know just how much you love me."
Running his knuckles down her arm, he offered her a slow smile. "Never hurts for a man to be certain."
"Well, come along then, Mr. Marston." Samantha got to her feet. Zachary swallowed hard. That goddamn woman was a masterpiece standing in front of him. "You have a lot of people to talk to this morning and I'm certain you'll be in need of a long nap by lunchtime."
***
Zachary had grumbled at Samantha's suggestion that he would need a nap. Now, he was thinking she knew him better than he knew himself. They had beaten the rain to town but the moment they had put Athena and Blaze in the livery and stepped onto main street, Eleanor had come rushing in their direction and it had been clear that she'd been upset.
Now, Zachary was heading toward the jail and wondering how a man went about getting by with killing the local law enforcement. Samantha and Eleanor were following along behind him arm in arm. In Zachary's opinion, Eleanor tended to be a quiet and bit timid woman but Samantha seemed to be providing her with a certain amount of strength and confidence. Zachary wasn't surprised—he'd known since the start that his woman brought the best out of those around her.
As he stepped up on the boardwalk in front of the jailhouse, Zachary was faintly aware of Sam warning him to control his temper. As if she had any room to talk. When Eleanor had told them about the run in with Judith at the diner, that damned woman's response had been to vow to punch the woman a bit harder the next time she saw her. Zachary nearly chuckled at the memory—yeah, his Samantha couldn't talk to him about controlling tempers.
"You can wait for me out here," he said, stopping at the door.
"I don't think we will," Samantha quickly countered.
Zachary sighed. He was a man who knew how to pick his battles and he wasn't going to fight this one. Having Samantha near him while he dealt with Marshall Oxley may prove to be a good thing—it might just save that bastards' life.
Stepping into the jail, Zachary quickly scanned the dusty surroundings. The main office was empty. A half empty bottle of whiskey sat on the desk beside several unorganized piles of paperwork. Where was the damn Marshall?
"When I left last night he was unconscious in front of Timothy's cell," Eleanor admitted quietly. "Timothy had knocked him out cold after Leonard had...had suggested a certain way I could ensure he let Tim go."
Zachary grumbled. "I hate that fucking coward."
"So does everyone else who meets him," Samantha assured him. Then she frowned. "Is that someone singing?"
Zachary listened and sure enough the sound of a male voice singing poorly came through the thick door that led to the cells. "Oh my darlin', oh my darlin', oh my darlin', Clementine. You are lost and gone forever, dreadful sorrow, Clementine."
Eleanor seemed to be fighting a smile. "Is that Timothy?"
Zachary nodded, wincing at the assault on his ears. "Sounds that way. Your man always did sound like a cat with his tail under a rocker when he took a notion to sing a song."
"He's not my man."
Zachary shrugged. That wasn't a conversation he was eager to have. Glancing behind the desk, he saw a ring of keys and grabbed them before opening the door that led to the cells.
Timothy's singing was even louder and more off key without that slab of oak to deaden it. 'Drove her ducklings to the water every morning just at nine. Hit her foot against a splinter and fell into the foaming brine. Ruby lips above the water blowing bubbles, soft and fine. But, alas, I was no swimmer, so I lost my Clementine.'
That was a rather depressing tune. "Maybe I should leave you locked up in here as punishment for that horrible racket coming out of your mouth," Zachary spoke up.
Timothy leapt off his cot and scrambled to the bars, a smile lighting up his face—and emphasizing the split on his bottom lip. "You wouldn't dare do something like that to your brother, would you?"
Zachary felt his temper flare at the sight of that bruising around Timothy's eye. "Who did that to your face? Eleanor wouldn't give me a name."
Timothy's gaze went behind Zachary and he saw the way his best friends' eyes lit up and knew that they must have fallen on Eleanor. "Don't worry, Zach. I gave worse than I got. Good morning, Eleanor."
"Good morning, Tim."
Zachary held up the keys. "Would you like to get out of here?"
"Sure would. Wanna come lay on the cot for old times sake? You remember that time we got locked up in here together? We'd spent the night out tipping Crosswells cows and Granger was Marshall then. Him and Crosswell was cousins so Granger locked us in here good and tight to teach us a lesson on causing mischief." Zachary smiled at the memory. Timothy laughed. "Didn't work though. Hell, we tipped his cows every night for a month before we finally got tired of it."
"You've tipped a cow?" Samantha questioned.
He looked down into those amused green eyes of hers and shrugged. "I've tipped quite a few cows."
With laughter filling the room, Zachary went to Timothy's cell door and began testing keys. The third one slid into the lock and undid it quickly. Timothy was quick to step into the hall, stretching out his arms and rolling his shoulders. "Feels good to be out of there."
A sudden unexpected blast of thunder shook the very timbers beneath their feet. Zachary, unsure what the noise was at first, quickly grabbed hold of Samantha, pulling her close. Eleanor stepped closer to Timothy.
"Jesus Christ, I thought that was dynamite for a minute," Timothy grumbled, putting his hand over his heart. "I think I might have died...."
Zachary took several deep breaths. "Bad weather was moving in fast when we came into town."
"Well, let's go get some breakfast and spend the day together," Timothy suggested to the group, though his eyes were only on Eleanor.
She smiled, tucked a stray strand of blond hair behind her ear and nodded. "I'd like that."
The four of them turned toward the door to find themselves staring at a very angry—and rather bruised—Marshall Oxley. The scent of liquor coming off the man would sedate a buffalo. He had his gun in his hand and his blue eye was narrowed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
A/N: Uh-oh.... Yes, Zachary just took it upon himself to walk into a jail, steal the keys, and free a prisoner. I wonder what Marshall Oxley is going to have to say about that. We shall find out soon. And, of course, I had to give Zachary a bit of fun with his woman before he deals with all of the business in town.... Could you imagine how many folks would die if he wasn't tended to and relaxed before dealing with this nonsense? 🤣🤣 I hope y'all enjoyed the chapter!