His seeking mouth muffled her words. For the barest instant she resisted. Then her need for him, a need denied for three lonely years, surged like a flood and swept her away. Her body softened. Her arms went around him. Her fingers furrowed the thickness of his hair, pulling him down to her.
With a groan, he jerked her tight. His kisses crushed her, devoured her. “Lord, girl,” he muttered. “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to hold you, to touch you…to have you.”
Her tears were salty on his face. Elise tasted them, felt them. The tears would always be there, as would the sorrow, the guilt, even the anger. But their need for each other was too compelling to be denied any longer.
Where his hips pressed hers, she could feel the jutting ridge of his arousal. The contact ignited a bonfire between her thighs. She ground against him, whimpering as currents of flame shimmered through her body.
It was too soon, the voice of caution shrilled. There were too many unresolved questions between them. Elise ignored the warning. She wanted her husband—his skin against hers, his hands and mouth possessing her, rousing her to a frenzy, his heat filling that cold and empty place inside her—the place that belonged only to him.
With arms that were even stronger than she remembered, he scooped her up and strode toward her bedroom. It was their bedroom once more, Elise reminded herself. After tonight, there was no way Clay would go back to the bunkhouse.
They undressed frantically, their clothes falling in rumpled heaps on the floor. Clay reached back to fasten the door latch. Then he turned and lowered his wife to the bed.
She clasped him in her arms, drowning her senses in the sweet male aura of his body. Her hands caressed the well-remembered curve of his back, the firmly muscled shoulders and buttocks. Her mouth savored the saltiness of his skin, the clean, musky aroma of his sweat. “I love you, Clay,” she murmured. “I’ve missed you so much…”
His kiss was hard and deep, his erection a swollen ridge against her belly. She could feel her own wetness slicking her thighs. Her legs opened beneath him, knees spreading to cradle his hips. “Don’t wait,” she whispered.
“I won’t.” Clay shifted lower, pushed inside and came home. She gasped as he filled her. Fresh tears flooded her eyes. Loving him was like a familiar dance she’d never forgotten. She lifted her hips to meet him, pulling him deeper, again and again as sensations swirled and mounted toward a dizzying climax. She muffled her cries against his shoulder as he drove into her again and again. There was no way to prolong the act—they were both too raw, too needy. As she toppled over the edge she felt him shudder inside her. He relaxed with a groan. They lay in warm darkness, wrapped in each other’s arms.
It was only later, as Clay slept beside her, that Elise remembered.
She’d neglected to tell him about Buck.
Clay opened his eyes. The dawn was leaden gray through the high window. Flecks of hail spattered the glass. It was early yet, and cold outside. Staying in bed a little longer would be a welcome luxury.
Elise slumbered next to him, her body as soft and warm as a child’s beneath the covers. As she stirred in her sleep, he felt his loins tighten. For a moment he was tempted to wake her and begin again where they’d left off last night. But it would soon be time to start the day. Toby would be stirring, and there’d be chores to do. With the Christmas baking she’d planned, Elise would have a long day ahead. Best let her sleep while she could.
Shifting onto his side he studied her sleeping face. She was so beautiful, so tender and vulnerable. He thought of her here alone, having to do a man’s work as well as a woman’s, hauling heavy loads and chopping wood until her tired body gave out and lost its precious burden. She could have died along with the baby, leaving Toby alone to starve.
A slow, burning anger began to grow in him.
None of this tragedy was Elise’s fault.
He should have been here.
Buck, at least, should have been here. Even if something had happened to the money, he could have returned to take care of Elise and Toby.
For that matter, if Buck hadn’t gone off whoring in the middle of the night, both of them would likely have been here. His brother’s folly had cost him three years of freedom and the life of a child he would never know—to say nothing of breaking Elise’s innocent heart.
Whatever it took, Clay vowed, he would find out what had happened to his brother. If Buck was alive, so help him, he would track him down and make him pay. There was no way to bring back what was lost. But he would get some degree of justice if he had to whip the young fool within an inch of his life.
Thin rays of morning sunlight filtered through the window. Crows called from the orchard as Elise blinked herself awake. She’d slept later than usual. But after last night who could blame her? She stretched her legs, savoring the unaccustomed twinge between her thighs.
Had she done the right thing, letting Clay back into her bed so soon? The dreaded imaginings of her husband with another woman hadn’t come between them, thank heaven. But there remained hurts to resolve. If she and Clay allowed lovemaking to serve as a substitute for talking, those hurts could fester like buried splinters. Somehow she needed to make him understand that.
With a drowsy yawn, she reached toward Clay’s side of the bed. The empty sheet was cool beneath her hand. From the kitchen she heard the clank of an iron stove lid dropping into place.
“Clay?” She sat up, clutching the sheet to her breasts. Footsteps approached the door. An instant later it swung open.
“Sorry to wake you. I was just trying to warm the house.” He was fully dressed, his thick hair uncombed, his expression troubled. Was he already regretting last night?
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Is Toby all right?”
“Toby’s asleep. I just looked in on him.”
“Then come and sit down.” She motioned to the foot of the bed. “I can see that something’s bothering you. I won’t stop worrying until I know what it is.”
His gaze took in her bare shoulders and tousled hair. Hunger flickered in the depths of his granite eyes. “If I take one step closer, I won’t be held responsible for what I do to you.”
Elise gave him a smile. At least it wasn’t her he was unhappy with. “Then perhaps you’d better speak from where you are,” she said.
Clay’s jaw tightened. His face reflected his inner struggle as he spoke. “It’s Buck. I can’t stop thinking about what he did—to me, to you and Toby and to the baby. If he hadn’t gone into that blasted cathouse—” His fist balled against his thigh. “Damn it, he was only eighteen. I should’ve made him come back to the hotel with me. I should never have turned him loose in that town!”
“Buck was of age. He was responsible for his own decisions.” Elise felt the weight of her unshared knowledge. Dared she tell Clay where he could find his brother?
“Then why didn’t he take care of things the way I told him to?” Clay spat out the words. “I’m not proud to say it, but there’s a part of me that hopes the young fool’s dead. At least that might explain why he stayed away. Otherwise, he’s got no excuse!”
Clay was working himself into a fury. This was the worst possible time to tell him, Elise knew. But she’d already kept the secret too long. She owed her husband the truth.
She forced her gaze to lock with his. “What if I told you I knew where to find Buck?” she asked.
Clay reeled as if she’d struck him. His lips mouthed something she couldn’t hear. “How long have you known?” he demanded.
“Only since yesterday, when the marshal told me. Buck’s over in Ridgeview City. It seems he’s been there all along.”
“What about the money? Did the marshal know anything about that?”
“No. But Buck doesn’t have any of it. I’m sure of that much.”
Clay’s expression wavered between outrage and disbelief as Elise described his brother’s beggarly condition. “Something terrible must have happened,” she said. “Otherwise, why wouldn
’t Buck have come back to the ranch? At least he would’ve had a home here.”
“The damn fool boy probably drank up every last cent of that money!” Clay growled. “Don’t worry about making breakfast for me. I’ll be leaving for Ridgeview City as soon as the chores are done.”
“But tomorrow’s Christmas day! Can’t it wait?” Elise was on her feet, struggling into her clothes.
“I’ve already waited too long. So have you.”
“What are you going to do, Clay?” Half dressed, she flew to him. Her hands clutched his shirt, as if she could hold him back.
The eyes that glared down at her were the stony eyes of a stranger. “My brother could’ve been killed that night in Abilene,” he said. “Saving his worthless life cost me three years in hell. The only thing that kept me from losing my mind was my trust that he’d take care of you and Toby. Turns out, I couldn’t even count on him for that.”
“But what are you going to do?” She gripped his shirt, determined not to let him walk away without an answer.
“I don’t know. I’ll figure that out on the way. But it won’t be something you’ll want to see.”
“You could get hurt, Clay.” She was pleading now. “You could even end up back in jail. Whatever Buck did or didn’t do, I don’t want to lose you again!”
“Let me go, Elise.” His voice was as cold as his eyes.
Startled, she dropped her hands. Without another word he strode across the parlor, lifted his hat and coat off the rack and walked out the front door. As the latch clicked behind him, Toby tottered out of his room, rubbing sleepy eyes.
“Is Papa mad at us?” he asked.
“Not at us,” Elise reassured her son. “He just needs to go somewhere today.”
“So why did he act mad?” Toby persisted.
“Grown-up business.” Elise scooped him up in her arms. “How would you like to help me get ready for Christmas? We can bake pies and cookies and finish decorating our tree.”
Toby’s round little face spread into a grin. “Can we make gingerbread men?”
“We’ll see. First you need to get dressed and have some breakfast. Then we’ll get to work.”
Whooping with delight, Toby raced back to his room. The floor chilled Elise’s bare feet as she moved to the window. Her breath frosted on the glass as she leaned close. Clay was in the corral, using a shovel to clear the watering trough. His jaw was set, his mouth grim. The blade slammed again and again into the stubborn ice.
She remembered the coldness in his eyes when she’d tried to keep him from leaving. It was as if the prospect of confronting Buck had driven all tenderness from his mind, leaving nothing but rage.
She would never have described her husband as violent. But Clay had spent the past three years locked up with criminals. How could any man help but be changed by such an ordeal? Watching him now, Elise had little doubt that, in his present state of mind, he was capable of killing his own brother.
And she had no power to stop him.
Clay had planned to ride his horse the ten miles to Ridgeview City. But when he checked the supply of feed for the stock he found the bins perilously low. He would need to pick up some hay and grain. Otherwise the horses, the cow and the chickens could be left with nothing to eat.
As he hitched up the wagon, he mentally counted the cash in his pocket. He’d earned a little money doing odd jobs on the way home from Kansas. With what was left, he’d hoped to buy small Christmas gifts for Toby and Elise. But the animals had to come first. Paying for a few weeks’ worth of feed would take all he had.
Damn this poverty that ate like lye at his soul! By now he should have been doing well, with cattle on the land and money in the bank. But Buck’s crazy, irresponsible behavior had cost him everything.
Tossing some old quilts into the bed of the wagon, he climbed onto the driver’s seat. For a moment he paused, gazing back at the house. He’d half expected Elise to come running out and beg him to stay. But he’d spoken harshly to his wife, and she had her pride. He could only hope that once he’d settled the score with Buck, they could put the past behind them and make a new start. Elise was a queen among women, and she deserved better than the hard life she’d been dealt. She deserved a comfortable life with pretty clothes and nice things for the house—things he was too poor to give her. That thought rankled Clay most of all.
Clucking to the horses, he swung the wagon down the drive. The sky was overcast, with muddy clouds drifting in above the western hills. Clay gave the clouds a thoughtful scowl. The trip to Ridgeview City and back would take most of the day. He could end up driving home in a storm.
It flickered through his mind that maybe he shouldn’t go. Elise was upset with him for leaving; and tomorrow would be Christmas—their first Christmas together in three years. If anything delayed him he might miss the day with his family, not to mention the worry his late return would cause.
But no, the feed shortage was critical. And the need to confront his brother was burning through him like rattlesnake venom. The sooner he got it out of his system the better.
At the gate, he paused and looked back toward the house, hoping for a glimpse of his wife and son. But the porch was empty, as he should have known it would be.
Raising his collar against the wind, he turned the wagon onto the road. The wheels creaked as they settled into the frozen ruts. Overhead, a pair of ravens spiraled against a sunless sky. The day promised to be as bleak and cold as Clay’s mood.
He wasn’t looking forward to the showdown with his brother. There was no way to predict how it would go. But Clay was certain of one thing. Once their score was settled, he would turn his back and walk away.
He never wanted to set eyes on Buck again.
Elise had spent the morning mixing bread, baking two apple pies and helping Toby fashion a small army of gingerbread men. Now it was past noon, and the little house was a wonderland of delicious aromas. Cinnamon, ginger, apples, pastry and pine perfumed the air.
It smelled like Christmas.
But it didn’t feel like Christmas.
Dead on her feet, Elise sank into the rocking chair and closed her eyes. She’d kept busy all morning, chatting with Toby and trying not to think about her husband. But now the worry she’d held at bay for hours came crashing in.
Anytime now, Clay could be arriving in Ridgeview City. Once he found his brother, anything could happen. Clay was not armed—the shotgun was all they had, and he’d left it here with her. But Buck could easily have a weapon. If he felt threatened he might use it. Clay, on the other hand, had always been the stronger of the two. If his temper got the best of him, he could literally beat his brother to death.
Why had Clay insisted on rushing off like a madman, without taking time to think things over? Hadn’t there already been enough grief in their family?
“Mama, can we finish the chain now?” Toby was standing at her side, holding the length of paper chain they’d used on their first small tree. Elise had promised him they would make it longer to go on the new tree. She’d already cut a stack of paper strips from her store of old magazines and wrapping papers. Now, she supposed, was as good a time as any.
“Let’s make some paste,” she said. “Then we can get to work.”
In the kitchen, she mixed flour and water in a cup. When it had been stirred to a gluey consistency, she sat down at the table with Toby and they went to work. The boy already knew how to loop a paper strip into the chain and glue the ends. By the time Elise took her seat he was finishing his first link.
“Since you’re working on that end, I’ll start on the other,” Elise said. “How far do you think our chain will reach when we’re done?”
Toby gazed beyond the kitchen, into the parlor. “All the way to the door, I bet,” he said.
Elise picked up a strip of paper and dabbed the end in the paste. “Let’s find out,” she said.
Little by little, the chain grew longer. The task kept her hands busy but did little to oc
cupy her mind. One link, then another, joined like the links that had formed their family tragedy.
Clay’s arrest. Buck’s disappearance. The loss of the baby. She and Clay and Buck had fashioned the dark chain of events together.
Now Clay was about to add another link.
Outside, the wind had risen. Gusts of hail, as fine as river sand, blasted the kitchen windowpane. The very sound of it made Elise shiver. Being on the road in this weather would be misery.
Why couldn’t Clay have stayed home today? Whatever Buck’s sins, he was already suffering for them. Why not leave him to his own punishment and get on with their lives?
Elise’s hands had torn the paper link she was pasting. Too restless to sit, she pushed away from the table, rose and walked to the window.
“Are you all right, Mama?” Toby’s blue eyes were wide with concern.
“Fine. Just stretching my legs.”
“When will Papa be home?”
“Not for a while. Maybe before dark.” Anxious to distract the boy, Elise turned toward the stove. “How about some pearl tea to warm us up?” She moved the kettle over the heat and set two cups on the counter. Elise had loved pearl tea as a child. Made with hot water, milk and a pinch of sugar, it was one of Toby’s favorite treats as well. “Let’s see how many links we can make before the kettle boils,” she said.
The diversion helped, but only for a few minutes. As they sipped their tea, her thoughts returned again and again to Clay. The sense of foreboding was so deep it almost made her ill.
It was Christmas Eve—and the future of their family hung in the balance.
Ridgeview City, an untidy sprawl of tin and clapboard, had never lived up to the promise of its name. Set amid colorless hills, it served as little more than a wayside stopping place for travelers. Scattered along its dusty main street were three saloons, a run-down hotel, a bathhouse, a jail, a dry goods and feed store and a livery stable. Ramshackle cabins and dugouts littered the treeless countryside. There was no sign of either a church or a school.
Cowboy Christmas Page 13