Blinking back tears, she patted his cheek. “You write to me often, let me know where you are and how you’re doing.”
“I will.”
He stuck out his hand to Dallas, grateful when the man gave it a firm shake. “There will always be a place here for you.”
“Appreciate it.” He hesitated, then added, “There’s no reason for Faith to know what happened this morning.”
“How are you going to explain the swelling lip?”
“I’ll handle it.”
He returned to his cabin, grateful to find Faith still sleeping. Leaning against the doorjamb, he memorized every aspect of her. The tangled mess of her black hair spread across his pillow, the lithe length of her body curled on his bed. Her long limbs that he desperately wanted wrapped around him.
She looked so innocent in slumber, her thick, sooty lashes resting on her high cheekbones. The sun had bronzed her skin without leaving a single freckle behind. In his eyes, she was flawless.
He regretted he was going to miss the flare of her temper when she awoke to find him gone. She was the most beautiful when her passions ran high. But he didn’t want to carry with him any bitter words that might arise between them, and if she shed any tears, he didn’t know if he’d find it within himself to do what needed to be done. With a lonesome sigh he left her to her dreams.
After packing a few things in his saddlebags, he mounted his horse and headed west.
Chapter Nine
August 1909
“Uncle Rawley, do you have a dog?” Callie asked, around the piece of bacon she was nibbling.
Faith and her daughter had arrived in time for breakfast, and so far the meal had been as quiet as the one the night before—which meant not quiet at all.
“I used to,” he said.
Her delicate brow pleated. “What happened to it?”
It had grown old and he’d had to put it down, one of the hardest things he’d ever done in his life, but did he tell her all that? Did she know about death?
“He went to play in heaven,” Faith said, sparing him the torment of possibly breaking this child’s heart.
“You should get another one.”
The girl was as bossy as her mother. “Maybe someday I will when I’m a bit more settled.”
“I like dogs.” To prove her point, she gave the last bit of her bacon to the scruffy mutt. “Rufus sleeps with me.”
“I bet that makes him happy.”
She nodded. “Are you gonna play with me today?”
“I gotta work.”
“Speaking of that,” Faith said, “maybe we should have a little private meeting before the men gather so we can discuss how we want to handle things.”
“You’re in charge. Just tell me what to do.”
As though suddenly lost, she looked at her father, then her mother, then swung her gaze back to him. “You were in charge of things before you left.”
He shrugged. “And now you are.”
She seemed surprised, but also pleased. He had little doubt she could handle all the responsibilities of managing the spread and all the men who worked for them. She’d spent a good bit of her youth out on the range with him and Dallas, roping calves for branding, moving steers from one pasture to another, mending fences, hauling hay. She knew the workings of the ranch as well as he did.
“I guess we’d better get to it,” she said.
While she gave her daughter a hug and a few final words, he meandered outside where the cowboys had gathered. He shook the hands of the men he knew, introduced himself to those he didn’t, noted the absence of a few familiar faces. A lot of changes had taken place since he left.
Then Faith wandered out. Denim pants looked better on her than on any man he knew, and he fought not to notice how her curves were a little more pronounced. The dress she’d worn last night had hidden a good deal. The clothes she wore now revealed everything, and not a single aspect of her wasn’t pleasing to the eye. Making her way into the center of the group, she came to stand beside him.
“What assignments are you giving us, Rawley?” one of ranch hands called out.
“Faith will be doing that, Beau,” he said loudly enough for all to hear.
“But you’re in charge.”
“Nope. I’m taking orders from Faith like the rest of you fellas.”
“We all thought Faith was just filling in until you got back,” Mike said.
“You thought wrong.”
“If you have a problem with me giving orders,” Faith said, “I can go ahead and give you what you’re owed, and you can move on.”
Mike shuffled his feet like he thought she might start shooting bullets at them and he needed to be prepared to sidestep them. “Just surprised is all.”
“I’m not sure why,” Faith said. “I’ve worked beside a lot of you since I was old enough to sit in a saddle.”
Rawley clapped his hands together once. A couple of men jumped. “I think that’s settled. If you’ll tell me where you want me, I’ll get right on it. I’m anxious to figure out what all has changed.”
“Why don’t you ride the perimeter, check the fencing? It’ll give you a chance to look things over.”
He winked at her. “Happy to, boss.”
She gave him a ghost of a smile, which had his heart soaring, gave him hope they were on the precipice of reclaiming the friendship they’d once shared. Wending his way through the gathered men, he ambled over to his horse and mounted up, heard Faith’s voice ring out as she issued orders. One of the things he’d always admired about her was her determination to do what needed to be done.
By mid-afternoon, Faith had taken care of everything she needed to, was pleased with the work the men were doing, pleased with almost everything except the slight awkwardness that still hovered between Rawley and herself. Several of the men had crossed paths with him during the day and reported his approximate whereabouts to her. Urging her horse into a gentle canter toward the north end of the ranch, she was determined to ensure everything was right between them before this evening.
Her family members weren’t big on gossiping about each other, but they did notice things—and worried when they sensed something wasn’t quite right. Her relationship with him meant too much to her, and she didn’t want it ruined because of unresolved issues from a long-ago night and feelings toward him that had begun to stir when she’d been much younger.
Not that finally finding him did anything to calm the anxiety, because the sight of him was awakening a stirring of desire she hadn’t felt in a good long while. He was restringing a section of the barbed-wire fence. Based on the glistening of his bronzed back, he’d long ago tossed aside his shirt. His broad-brimmed hat provided the only shade for miles.
Drawing her horse to a halt a short distance away, she simply watched in mesmerized fascination at the way his corded muscles bunched and stretched with his efforts, the manner in which his Levi’s pulled taut against his backside, outlined his thighs. He was all sinewy strength in motion, and she had the insane thought that if anyone ever made a moving picture of him at his labors, she’d gladly watch it for hours and never grow bored.
A thousand times she must have seen him without a shirt—washing up at the watering trough after a day in the saddle before coming inside to wash up properly, taking a dip in the nearby river where he’d taught her to swim when she was seven, and moments like this when it was simply too hot not to let nature’s occasional breeze waft directly over one’s skin. But never before had her mouth gone so dry, had she thought how pleasing it might be to take a lick of that salty flesh. She felt as though the champagne from that long-ago night was once again having its way with her, making her dizzy with a want for things she’d set aside, putting thoughts in her head that had no business visiting.
If she’d married Cole Berringer—or any man, for that matter—she’d have been settling, settling because she’d never been able to attract this man, to make him view her as anything other than a kid siste
r. It certainly hadn’t helped her case that she’d been a silly girl with flights of fancy who’d never known hardship until it came calling without warning.
Her horse snorted. Rawley stilled his actions, glanced over his shoulder, and straightened.
“What are you doing out here? Checking up on me?” he asked as he released his hold on the wire, dropped his hammer, and wandered over to the post where his shirt stirred in the slight wind. He grabbed his shirt and shrugged into it with a smooth motion that rivaled poetry in its simple beauty. It took everything within her not to shout at him to leave his clothing where it was, to let her feast a little longer on something that never should have been served up for her enjoyment.
At least he didn’t bother fastening the buttons before snatching his canteen dangling from the post and taking several swallows of water, his throat muscles working, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down with his efforts, causing an unusual fluttering in her stomach that traveled clear down to the seat of her saddle. What the hell was the matter with her? She’d seen plenty of men drink. It was necessary if one wanted to survive out here.
Frustrated with the unruly awareness bubbling to the surface, she abruptly dismounted and ambled over to him. “I wanted to thank you for the way you handled the situation with the men this morning, supporting me, not trying to take over.”
“You earned it, stepping in when Dallas needed to let everything go.”
“If you’d been here, he’d have handed everything off to you. Or you’d have just naturally filled his boots. He always saw you as eventually running things.”
“But I wasn’t here. And one day the ranch will be yours. The men might as well get used to you being in charge. Besides, I didn’t want to have to explain another black eye.” His voice carried a hint of teasing that had a good bit of the tension easing out of her.
“I didn’t blacken your eye. Just bruised your cheek a little. Does it hurt?”
“Only when I smile.”
Which he did at that moment, bestowing on her the type of inviting grin that had no doubt stolen a thousand hearts. “Rawley, with the family gathering tonight, I want to make sure everything is right between us.”
He watched her a full minute before reaching into the pocket of his shirt, pulling out a sarsaparilla stick, breaking it in half, and holding a piece toward her. For a man such as he, of few words, his actions spoke volumes. With a smile, she took his offering and slipped it between her lips, aware of his gaze riveted to her actions. Drawing some comfort from that, she nodded toward the spool of wire. “Poachers?”
“Maybe,” he said around his sarsaparilla stick. “Hard to tell. You might want to have the men do a head count on the herd. It could just be someone opposed to fencing. They cut close to a half mile of it.”
“Why didn’t you find some men to help fix it? As much as I appreciate what you did this morning, you don’t need my permission to order the men about if you see something that needs to be addressed. Truth is, you have as much right to issue orders as I do.”
He gave her a familiar grin that usually had her smiling back, but now it made her realize how masculine and confident he was. He knew himself, knew what he wanted. “I like the hard work of pitting myself against the wire.”
Which she supposed was his acknowledgment he’d issue orders if he needed to. “You won’t be finished before company arrives. Why don’t you stretch it and I’ll hammer it into the posts?”
They worked well together, but then they always had. He stretched the wire taut, wrapped it around a post, and held it tight, watching as she secured it with a few strategically placed U-shaped nails. Although she wanted things right between them, he wanted answers and figured the direction of the questions was likely to put her back up but was willing to risk it.
“I rode by that area you had set aside for drilling.” He was aware of the hammer hitting the nail with a little more force, causing the post to vibrate. “It looks like someone set fire to those derricks they were building.”
Stepping back, she met his gaze. “Like I said, I lost interest.”
It seemed a drastic measure to take for a mere lack of enthusiasm. “Berringer have anything to do with that decision?”
“Yep.”
“Is he Callie’s father?”
Her mouth flattened, but she didn’t look away, as though she was weighing how much to trust him. Finally, she nodded.
“I thought you liked him.”
She gave him a sad smile. “I thought I did, too.”
She strode over to the next post. Following her, frustration at the man for hurting her and letting her down getting to him, he yanked on the wire so hard he was surprised he didn’t jerk the previous post out of the ground. “What happened?” he asked.
With a shrug, she positioned the nail and gave it a whack. “We just didn’t work out.”
He wanted the specific reasons but knew from the tone of her voice that they weren’t coming anytime soon. “Does he know about Callie?”
Another nail positioned, another whack that nearly upended the post. “Things were over between us before I knew I was with child. He was long gone. If he hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have wanted to be saddled with him, so it was just as well he wasn’t around.”
He couldn’t help but think the man had a right to know. Hell, he’d want to know if he had a young’un about, which he might mention once their relationship moved from tentative to sturdier. “It had to be hard, Faith, having a baby, not being married.”
She smiled, the wistful beauty of it nearly breaking his heart. “When I started increasing, I stopped going into town. Ranch hands figured it out, of course. I’m sure some of them didn’t keep it to themselves; rumors circulated through the area. A few days after Callie was born, when I was strong enough to get out of bed, Pa took us into town, introduced his granddaughter to every banker, shopkeeper, lawyer, newspaperman, widow, man, and woman around. So much love and pride were reflected in his voice. Rawley, I have never loved that man more than I did that day.”
He could picture it—Dallas with his long stride, his bigger-than-life ways, daring anyone to find fault with the babe in his arms or her mother. The town might now have a mayor and a town council, but Leighton still belonged to Dallas. His influence could not be measured. No one wanted to get on his bad side.
“You should have let me know, Faith.”
“She wasn’t your responsibility. You left here looking for something, Rawley. I didn’t want you coming back until you found it.”
The thing he’d been searching for was standing before him. He couldn’t imagine the courage it had taken for her to risk the censure of the townsfolk. She could have gone to some other town or city where no one knew her and told them she was a widow. “Why’d you stay?”
“Because this is my home.”
She wandered over to the next post and he followed, going through the same motions as before with the wire.
“Did you meet anyone while you were away?” she asked.
“Met a lot of people.”
She pretended to conk him on the head with the hammer. “Anyone special. A lady.”
“Nope.”
She seemed to take great interest in ensuring the next nail was positioned perfectly. “That lady you loved, the one Maggie told me about, do you know if she’s still in town?”
“She is.”
At that, her eyes came up to his. “Did you write to her while you were away?”
“I should have but I didn’t.”
“Is she married?”
“Nope.”
She gave him a saucy, challenging smile. “Maybe you’ll get up the courage to call on her.”
With that, she sashayed off to the next post.
It had never been about courage. It had always been about believing he didn’t deserve her. And he hadn’t, but maybe not for the reasons he’d assumed. Perhaps there had been a bit of fear in him, fear that his past would taint whatever they might have ha
d together.
But when he considered the courage it had taken for her to remain in the area knowing people would judge her, his own concerns about being judged were insignificant.
The one thing he did know was that no one would ever love her as much as he did.
Chapter Ten
“Faith give you that black eye?”
Rawley had expected some comment about his bruised cheek but had thought it would come from Maggie, not her father. Houston gave him a knowing smirk, or at least the set of his mouth strongly resembled a smirk. Half his face had been scarred “on some godforsaken battlefield” when he was younger, and the rivulets of thick tissue tended to keep that portion of his face immobile so it was sometimes difficult to interpret his smiles. But there was no difficulty whatsoever when it came to reading Austin’s broad grin. The man was downright and irritatingly amused.
“I might have accidentally run into her fist when I got off the train,” he admitted.
Austin chuckled. “I heard tell she was fit to be tied when you hightailed it out of here without discussing the matter with her first.”
“I had my reasons for leaving as I did.”
“Whatever they were, we hope they’re behind you now,” Houston said. “We’re glad to have you home.” He was the peacemaker of the family, a quiet man of few words, but when he did speak, people tended to listen.
Taking a sip of whiskey, Rawley glanced around. Houston’s wife and four daughters were there, as were Austin’s wife, Loree, and their five sons. Callie had been fed and put to bed already. Faith was still getting dressed. After working on the fence, they’d returned to the house to get ready. When he sank into the tub of hot water, he’d imagined her doing the same thing in the room next to his, thought of the soapy linen caressing her skin, the water droplets raining down on her.
Repairing the fence together, talking, had helped to reestablish the bond between them, and he wasn’t altogether certain that was a good thing, because now Faith Leigh was a woman to be reckoned with. Maturity had added to her allure, and he wasn’t certain he had it within him to resist her this time, wasn’t sure he wanted to any longer. A woman of her courage was the sort any man would welcome at his side. Now that she was older, the years separating them didn’t seem as big a gap. He was no longer a man, she a girl. They were both adults.
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