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spell, if he ever had at all. Cheekbones didn’t come any more sculpted except on the Indians he’d taken refuge with back before Emancipation. Sharp enough to cut glass they were. If his hair was darker and he wasn’t as fair, he might have been mistaken for at least a mix-breed. The eyes, however, those innocent blue eyes, were a dead give-away.
    He wasn’t from around here, for certain. Probably a chuck-eater or a shorthorn like old Bart had called him last night, his accent giving him away like a shirt full o’ fleas. He might have been out West for a few years, but there was no mistake he’d come from somewhere else—New York maybe.
    And James never would have met him had he not gone into Barrow’s.
    It wasn’t usually his habit to frequent white establishments, especially those patronized by drunk, armed cowboys. He could handle himself just fine, but he preferred not inviting difficulty if he could help it. He liked to keep a low profile and peace and quiet, particularly when he just arrived back from a hunt in Indian Territory.
    Troy Barrow had a reputation for being about as open-minded as anyone around these parts, though, known to treat everyone with the same respect he expected to be treated with.

    32
    Gigi Moore
    James had banked on this when he’d come through the doors tonight because he’d been too tired to go to Nellie’s. The blacks-only establishment was all the way across town, and after dropping off his latest quarries at Fort Smith, he’d just wanted to relax for a spell with a quick drink. Wolf Creek was the closest cow town, if a body could call a three-hundred mile ride close.
    Relaxing had been the last thing he’d done once that young’un with the honey-blond hair and wide blue eyes had walked into the bar and caught the attention of near everybody in the place, though, him included. Unfortunately, all the attention hadn’t come from the most seemly of characters, Bart just being the most vocal and roostered.
    In the end, James had wound up at Nellie’s anyhow, partaking in the special entertainment that only one of old Nellie’s sporting women could provide.
    It wasn’t enough, though, never had been.
    He wanted more.
    He wanted honey-blond hair and blue eyes.
    He wanted smoky-gray eyes and wavy chestnut hair.
    He wanted Troy’s broad shoulders and hard muscles that stood up to his own. He wanted to hold on to Chris’ slim hips when he slid his cock into the manchild’s tight little rear.
    He wanted the impossible.
    James muttered an oath and pulled away from the woman between his legs. His limp cock slid from her mouth with a soft pop.
    She caressed his thighs with both hands, looking up at his face in the dim light with a confused expression on her face. “You’re all tense, sugar. What’s the matter?”
    “It’s nothing you can help me with.”
    The woman sat back on her haunches and put a fist on her hip. “I thought I was doing a darn good job of helping before you stopped me.”
    “I reckon you were doing okay, ma’am.”

    Three Men and a Bounty
    33
    “Why are you always so all-fired formal, James ? You come here often enough to call me by my Christian name.”
    True enough, but he just couldn’t cross that barrier with her, with any woman. He wouldn’t, not when he couldn’t truly give her what he knew she wanted—commitment.
    James couldn’t commit to any woman. And to commit to a man, any man, would just shorten his lifespan right and proper.
    “I’m sorry I wasted your time, Sarah.” He stood up from the bed and turned his back on her as he pulled up his long johns and pants.
    He should never have given his permission for Nellie to send him a girl, but he found it hard to say no to the woman, to most women.
    This inability remained the bane of his existence. “I’ll pay you the full price for the hour.”
    She stood, too, caught him by the arm, and turned him around to face her. “You’re not just a job to me,” she murmured.
    “I can’t be