Only 06 - Winter Fire

nodded, the brushing of her mouth against his supple glove disturbed Case. He would have sworn that he could feel the warmth of her living breath even through the leather.
    It was like touching fire.
    An elemental masculine heat shot through him, shocking him.
    Bloody hell, as Elyssa would say , he thought. Of all the damned inconvenient times to get randy .
    Never knew I liked the smell of roses so much .
    â€œâ€”dammit, doesn’t have a damned thing to do with it and you damned well know it, dammit.”
    The voice from below floated up, taking his mind off his unexpected response to the female who lay lightly against him.
    â€œThat’s Joe Moody,” Case breathed against Sarah’s ear. “His men call him Dammit, but not to his face.”
    Again, her smile gleamed swiftly.
    â€œToo ugly to look at?” she suggested in a voice as low as his.
    To Case the faint huskiness of her voice was like sipping whiskey. He took a slow, careful, very thorough breath. He told himself that he wasn’t doing it to savor the scent of roses and womanly warmth in the midst of desert winter.
    The urgent quickening of his body told him that he lied.
    â€œDammit, that old buzzard found silver, dammit!” Moody said.
    â€œThen why is his widow living no better than an Injun?” came the cold retort.
    The tension that went through Case at the sound of the voice lasted only an instant, but Sarah felt it.
    Just as she had felt the other change in his body.
    â€œAb Culpepper,” Case said against Sarah’s ear.
    The quality of his voice sent a queasy chill through her. It was the same unemotional voice he had used when he first overwhelmed her. It was the voice of a man to whom nothing mattered—not heat, not chill, not pain, not pleasure.
    Not even death.
    â€œDammit, how should I know why she ain’t living high on the hog on all that silver?” Moody asked in a high voice. “She’s a female, dammit!”
    â€œEven the devil don’t know a female’s mind,” Ab agreed calmly. “Worthless sluts, all of them.”
    Without realizing it Sarah made a low sound of protest and tensed even more. Her husband had sounded a lot like Moody. Half-drunk. All irritable. Unreasonable. Woman hater, except when lust was riding him.
    Case felt the subtle return of tension to her body.
    â€œQuiet,” he breathed.
    She didn’t so much as nod her head, but he knew that she understood. She made no more sounds.
    â€œLike I say, dammit!” Moody said triumphantly. “Shecould be a settin’ on all that silver like a broody hen.”
    â€œNot with Ute and Big Lola around,” Ab said. “Parnell tells me the two of them used to rob banks. Ute won’t let no slip of a girl stand between him and a heap of Spanish silver.”
    â€œDammit, maybe he don’t know, dammit!”
    A horse stamped impatiently. Or a mule.
    Sarah couldn’t be certain. She only knew that the Culpeppers rode big sorrel mules that were faster than lightning and lean as mustangs.
    â€œMoody,” Ab said impatiently, “a man can’t eat no silver.”
    â€œDammit, we ain’t gone hungry. My boys—”
    â€œâ€”rustle too close to home,” Ab interrupted. “Them beeves two of your boys just butchered back of camp are Circle A stock.”
    â€œSo?” Moody challenged.
    â€œThat’s only two days’ ride from Spring Canyon,” Ab said flatly. “I told you three days and no less.”
    â€œâ€™Twas three days, dammit!”
    â€œWhat y’all riding?” a third voice asked sarcastically. “Two-legged possums?”
    That comment was followed by loud voices and swearing between the Culpeppers and Moody’s men about the speed of horses versus mules.
    Case listened intently, trying to sort out the voices.
    Parnell Culpepper was easy to recognize. His voice was thin and grating. His cousin Quincy had a fuller voice, but no easier on the ears. Reginald Culpepper, who was both cousin and brother to the other two, hardly ever said anything.
    Kester Culpepper wasn’t much more talkative, unless he was drunk. Then he didn’t shut up until he passed out or someone got sick of his rambling and knocked him senseless.
    Moody’s men were harder for Case to sort out, because he had spent less time stalking them. There was one calledCrip, whose left arm was withered. Word had it that he made up for the