From the moment his lips touched hers, Ellie responded with the fervor born of their long separation, nurtured by the monstrous lie Armando Costello had told—that Kale was dead.
To have him now, alive and in her arms, proved as heady an aphrodisiac as his hands stroking her skin, his lips at her breast, coaxing life and desire from her body, filling her with a spiraling need she knew only he could satisfy. When she pressed herself to him, however, he drew back.
“Oh, your leg.”
“My leg is well.” He kissed her face. “Be careful of your ankle.”
“My ankle’s well.”
He shook his head, grinning. “You just want me too much to feel the pain right now.”
“Since you know so much about what I want,” her lips whispered across his, “hurry up and give it to me.”
Shifting himself he took up the soap he had left on the tree root. “Let me see,” he lathered soap in his hands, “…a long, leisurely bath. Isn’t that what you said?”
Although she protested that she had changed her mind, he began to bathe her all the same, first her hair, then her body, and his touch ignited them both as oil that had been spilled on water and set afire.
When the last soapsuds floated like fairy clouds down the creek, he set the soap aside and ran his hands over her clean body, pausing only when he came to the curly patch of hair that guarded their path to fulfillment as though it were the richest of mines.
And, indeed, he thought, it was. Loving Ellie and being loved by her in return was a treasure more valuable and real than any gem found beneath the earth or above it.
Uninhibited, her eyes held his, and she knew he could read the pleasure he inflicted upon her with his wanton assault. Merely looking on his face was enough to set her skin to prickling.
The intensity in his eyes disguised none of his own desire. His slightly parted lips invited her own, and when she reached toward him, letting her tongue play around the surface of his lips, she absorbed his wild tremor like a tree struck by lightning.
With her hand she traced his shoulder, then down his chest, letting water spray through her fingers as she reached beneath the surface, conscious only of an inexpressible need to draw him to her, to guide him inside her.
At her touch, her eyes darted to his.
He grinned. “I’m not like you, honey.” Instead of withdrawing his own hand, he gripped her as he spoke, as though to emphasize his meaning. “We’ll have to get out of this frigid water for me to be able to go on.”
“Let’s hurry, then,” she whispered.
After they had dried themselves and slipped inside the bedroll, after he was buried deep inside her, she hugged him close and felt tears well in her eyes.
“Oh, Kale, this is perfect, the most perfect thing I’ve ever known in my life.”
“Ummm…” he mumbled, carrying them to the crest of the mountain, where they experienced fireworks as if from the center of a volcano itself.
Afterward she snuggled against his chest and he held her tightly and had to agree that their lovemaking was as close to perfect as a man could get without dying and going to heaven.
The thought was sobering, for it called to mind the task awaiting him.
Armando Costello.
Kale tightened his arms around her and fell asleep with a new terror gnawing in his gut. He prayed this would not be the last time he made love to Ellie Jarrett.
Chapter Nineteen
They rode into Summer Valley a little after noon the following day. When Kale turned his mount toward the hill crowned by the Lady Bug Pleasure Emporium, Ellie objected.
“Let’s go straight home.”
He pursed his lips. He had waited until the last possible moment to reveal his plans, telling himself he didn’t want to alarm her unnecessarily on the trail.
Another motive, he knew, was that he hadn’t wanted to dispel the warmth between them. He figured what he had to say would be sure to provoke an argument.
And he hadn’t been wrong, he discovered, when he replied to Ellie’s objection. “I’m leaving you with Lavender—”
“What?”
“For a few days,” he added quickly. “Your ankle—”
“My ankle is fine, Kale Jarrett.”
“But—”
She fixed him with a stare he knew was meant to be stern. Her words distracted from it, however. “My ankle hasn’t hampered our—”
His wicked grin stopped her. He winked. “I’ll agree with that.”
“…our trip,” she finished.
“Nor that, either.”
“Then let’s go home. Please.”
He shook his head, wordlessly spurring his mount up the hill. She kept pace.
“I don’t want to stay in town without you.”
“And I don’t want you to, honey.” He drew rein in front of the Lady Bug. “But as things stand—”
“What things?” she interrupted.
He glanced down at her ankle, then shrugged.
“You mean Armando?”
He nodded. “Among others.”
“You don’t need to take Holt’s body to the Circle R,” she protested. “Send word for Matt to come fetch him.”
“That isn’t all.” Taking her reins, he flipped them over her horse’s head and tied both horses at the rail. After he’d done the same with the packhorses, he raised his arms to her. “Come here like a good girl. Swing your leg over so you won’t hurt your ankle.”
She glared at him. “Don’t patronize me, Kale Jarrett. You may be able to coax me into your bed with syrup in your voice, but right now all you’re apt to attract is ants.”
He laughed, but the caress in his eyes was anything but a jest. “All right. Put on one of those silky dresses, crawl into bed, and wait for me. When I get back tonight, we’ll see what I can coax from you.”
She slid from the saddle into his arms, clasped hers about his neck, and covered his lips with her own. He returned her kiss, eager to have her alone, though not at all eager for what lay ahead of him this day.
“You think Armando is at the ranch?”
“Maybe so,” he mused, quickly changing the topic. “I can’t get enough of you.” His lips caressed hers.
Suddenly the door to the Lady Bug opened and a group of twittering women descended the steps, breaking the magical silence.
“Ellie, baby, I’m so thankful you’re safe. We never should have trusted that damned Costello.”
“Is he here?” Kale asked.
Lavender shook her head. “He hasn’t been back since he left with Ellie.”
“What about his two men?” he asked.
“Haven’t seen them since they rode out with you,” she told Ellie.
Kale frowned, and Ellie explained. “Armando promised Lavender that Abe and Martin would ride to the cliffs with us. They parted ways at the Celery Creek trail. I was glad—”
Poppy’s shriek interrupted her.
“That’s Holt. He’s dead.”
Briefly Kale explained, with Ellie filling in details he omitted which she thought pertinent but he did not—such as how Kale dispatched the two killers Matt Rainey sent after them, then saved her from Holt.
“He was such a handsome man,” Poppy sighed.
“And sorry,” Lavender added. “Holt Rainey was as sorry as the day is long.”
“He’s been asking for this for a long time,” Snake said.
Lavender sized Kale up, her expression approving. “Guess he asked the wrong man.”
Kale had carried Ellie to the porch while they talked. At Lavender’s words, he stood her down and squeezed her to his side. His stomach still did flipflops recalling the situation in which Holt Rainey got himself shot, the ugly manner in which the man had treated Ellie. “Guess he asked the wrong way,” he muttered.
“We’ll leave him at the undertaker’s and send word to Matt at the Circle R,” Ellie said.
“No need,” Lavender replied. Kale and Ellie watched her inhale a deep b
reath before continuing. “Matt has moved into your house, Ellie. A couple of his men rode into town yesterday for supplies. Rainey’s taken over your range.”
“That bastard!” Ellie exploded. “I won’t allow such a thing. I’m going out there myself and move him off.”
In the end Kale won by appealing to her good sense.
“Then you don’t go, either,” she pleaded. “Kale, I know I’ve always told you I couldn’t leave the ranch. But that’s no longer true. Nothing is true, except—except that I couldn’t bear to lose you. I don’t care where I live, as long as it’s with you.”
“You’ll be with me, honey…I guarantee that.”
But after he rode away from the Lady Bug, having gained Lavender’s assurance that she’d feed Ellie and put her to bed for a day of much-needed rest, he wondered how in the world he intended to get out of this one.
At the bottom of the hill he turned toward the telegraph office, where he picked up his wires and read them on the way to the ranch.
They took his mind off the mechanics of what lay ahead, even though the one relating to Armando Costello came a bit late to be of any use, other than confirming what they had already discovered the hard way. Brady wired that the description of the man fit an unsavory character who went by a number of aliases and was suspected of having been involved in a couple of murders along the waterfront.
“Ride shy of him,” Brady advised.
Nothing he’d like better, Kale thought. But from the sound of things, folks had been riding shy of Armando Costello too long already. It was time somebody met him face to face, called his hand. Maybe it would keep someone else from ending up in an early grave.
Briefly Kale allowed himself to wish it were someone else who’d drawn the hole card on this one. Someone else who would have to face down the gambler.
But it wasn’t. He had drawn the card, and he would play the hand. No bellyachin’.
Gabe, the telegraph operator, had added his warning to Lavender’s concerning Matt Rainey’s presence at the ranch. Short-lived presence, Kale thought, what with the telegram proving Benjamin’s ownership riding safely in his saddlebags. It’d had quite a journey, that telegram, beginning with the night Ellie had run away to the Lady Bug, the night that had set into motion the nightmare just past.
And the confrontation ahead.
“How many men d’you think he has?” Kale inquired.
Gabe shrugged. “Can’t rightly say, of course, but couldn’t be many. There ain’t many of ’em left. To hear folks tell, Ira and Till are men to ride with. They’ve been with Matt since the beginning.”
Kale knew what that meant. They rode for the brand, and they’d stick by the boss through bad times and good. Mostly, their kind didn’t question whether their orders were right or wrong. They depended on the boss to be responsible for the morality of the outfit. But would they go so far as murder?
“He’s got some judge from down in Llano County on his side,” Gabe added.
“What’s the judge’s hand in this draw?” Kale inquired.
“Can’t say,” Gabe admitted. “I do know he spends as much time in that buckboard of his as he does holding court. Matter of fact,” he paused to stroke his grizzled face, then continued, “I seen that jackrabbit headin’ out your way not long after you rode into town this morning.”
The two men shook hands, and Kale turned to go. Then he called back, “What about Armando Costello?”
“The gambler? Ain’t seen him around for days. Figure he finally made enough to take out for Frisco.”
One bit of good news along with the other kind was a telegram from Fort Griffin. The soldier was out of the woods and the army had quit making noise about locating the cowpoke who roughed him up.
On his ride to the ranch, Kale turned over in his mind the information he’d gathered so far. He was uncertain what to expect from Rainey, but the telegram from the State should wrap things up.
He wondered how Matt Rainey would see things now, confronted with the death of his own brother. Kale knew how that felt firsthand, and he pondered how to go about breaking the news. How did you tell a man you’d shot down his brother?
To be sure, Matt should have been expecting as much. Any fool could see Holt was likely to wind up on the wrong end of a bullet. But truth was not always an easy thing to see by the man closest to it.
Especially a man like Matt Rainey. Kale didn’t want to have to kill Matt, too. He was sick of all this killing, but if push came to shove, he’d be ready.
Sitting atop the hill that overlooked the valley, he felt a wave of sadness envelope him. Greed had robbed his own brother of his life. Contrary to Holt Rainey’s chosen path, Benjamin Jarrett had been a decent, law-abiding citizen.
Kale’s mind drifted over the showdown he faced below while his eyes took in every inch of the valley. The apparent peace was deceiving, for he knew this valley was a cauldron that could boil over without an instant’s warning.
He dreaded what lay ahead, whether it was to be measured in hours or days. And it wouldn’t stop with sending Matt Rainey packing back to the Circle R. After that, he had another miscreant to deal with; he had to find and stop Armando Costello.
When the time came to face Costello, Kale knew it would be no-holds-barred, and he dared not let Costello get the upper hand. He must take the fight to the gambler.
Kale nudged the bay and started down the hill, following the path of fresh buckboard tracks. It appeared they had company; recalling his earlier conversation with the telegraph operator, he had a pretty good idea who it was. By now that judge had likely filled Matt in on their return from the painted cliffs, the empty saddles on the horses he led, and the one full one.
Suddenly he spurred his mount and raced down the hill, drawing up abruptly in front of the house. Matt and another man came to stand on the porch. Ellie’s porch. Matt Rainey cradled a shotgun in his arms.
“That’s far enough, Jarrett,” the big man bellowed. “You’re trespassing on private property. And if what Judge Cranston here tells me is true, I’m placing you under citizen’s arrest for the murder of my brother and two of my employees.”
“You’re wrong on all counts, Rainey.” Kale swung his leg behind his saddle, preparing to dismount.
“Hold it right there,” Rainey ordered. “Throw down those handguns, then come around here nice and slow-like.”
Kale paused to consider the situation.
“Before you use that shotgun, Rainey, you’d best hear me out. Newt and Saint are buried up at the painted cliffs. I killed them; I buried them.” As he spoke, Kale finished dismounting. He stepped around his horse to face Rainey, careful to keep his hands clear of his gun.
“You lost a brother, and I’m sorry for you. I know how that feels. But you know as well as I do that Holt came gunning for me. I shot him while defending myself.” He stared frankly into the older man’s glowering eyes. “And while protecting my brother’s widow.”
Rainey cocked the shotgun, and Kale went for his gun. But the judge placed a restraining hand on Matt’s arm. Kale froze in mid-action, speaking.
“I don’t want to shoot you, Rainey. You’ve done a lot of good for this country, and there’s more to be done. If you get off your high horse, you can help. Right now you’re trespassing on my sister-in-law’s ranch.”
“The hell I am,” Rainey sputtered.
With the slowest of motions, Kale removed the telegrams from his pocket and handed one of them to Judge Cranston, who scanned it with a scowl.
“Damn it, Matt, he’s right. Jarrett did file on this land after all.”
Matt raged. His face became scarlet. He huffed and snorted until Kale wouldn’t have been surprised to see smoke coming from the man’s nostrils. Kale spoke again.
“Mrs. Jarrett will be returning home as soon as she recovers from the ordeal you and others put her through. At that time she will make the decision whether to press criminal charges against both of you.”
Rainey
continued to rage and fume, but no coherent words came forth. Defeat came swiftly, then, like a sharp instrument puncturing his pride and his dreams of grandeur.
Kale stood perfectly still, awed by the destruction of a human mind which he witnessed before him. When he spoke, he directed his speech to Judge Cranston. Matt Rainey stared vacantly at the body of his brother, apparently unable to comprehend how his world could have crumbled so quickly.
“She will hold Rainey accountable for any destruction of property which occurred during her absence, as well as for any missing livestock.”
Cranston nodded wordlessly and led the larger man down the steps. While they made their way to the buckboard, Kale tied the three Circle R horses to its tailgate. One carried the body of Holt Rainey.
After helping Matt onto the seat, the judge flicked the reins and turned the team toward the town road.
Kale removed his hat and wiped his brow with his sleeve. He’d expected something different, he conceded. He wasn’t sure what, but different.
He supposed every man had his limits. And Matt Rainey had been tottering on the brink of his for a spell now. No one in the valley had any respect left for him, yet Kale found himself pitying the man. Why, he couldn’t say. If the tables were turned, he would certainly receive none, nor would he expect to.
As Rainey and Cranston drove off, Ira and Till came around the corner of the house from the pens. When Kale explained the situation, they agreed to return and help him with the branded cattle. First, however, they must see to the needs of their boss, for they rode for the Circle R.
In the house Kale found things pretty much the way Ellie had left them. He walked through each room, imagining her here now, longing to have her beside him.
When he reached the spare room, he stared long at the bed they had shared, then turned his attention to the trapdoor beneath it.
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