Summer Rose

by Bonnie K. Winn

  The fierce need to reclaim his land was still strong, but now he questioned his methods. Her vulnerability rose up again to assail him, and he knew without question she was beginning to mean too much to him.

  Even as he completed the thought, his hand covered her smaller one. Cassie glanced up at him, her eyes reflecting the quick pleasure he knew she felt. The look she gave him hit like a hard fist to the gut.

  Shane, too, listened to the minister’s words: “Do unto others…” His mind echoed a bitter laugh. Before they do unto you, he completed silently. The past had taught him to make his own rules. Rules that didn’t include trusting violet eyes. Still, he didn’t draw his hand away.

  When the final song ended, the congregation rose and bowed their heads for the benediction. Afterward, Cassie lagged behind the crowd as they stood talking with one another, ignoring her. Belva’s and Victoria’s friendly greetings warmed her heart, but the others’ outright rejection tore at her sensitive nature.

  Lingering inside, Cassie spoke with the Reverend Beecher while the bulk of the congregation departed. Seeing that almost everyone had left, she glanced at Shane and ended her conversation with the minister. Taking his cue, Shane shook the clergyman’s hand.

  “Good sermon, Reverend Beecher.”

  “Thank you, Shane. It seemed timely.”

  Cassie smiled fully at the minister, her face a study of gentle beauty.

  “It was indeed a pleasure to meet you, Miss Dalton.”

  “Cassie, please.”

  “By all means, Cassie.”

  Taking her arm, Shane escorted Cassie out the door and to her wagon. He had an insane desire to spend the rest of his lazy Sunday afternoon with her. It was a perfect day, the sky cerulean and filled with enough puffy clouds to diminish the heat. Regret tore at him as instead he lifted her up into the wagon and tipped his hat in farewell. Millicent was already seated in the wagon, waving goodbye to Ringer. Andrew clambered in the back, and Cassie started to flick the reins.

  “Think your sister will let you get away to go fishing this week?” Shane asked Andrew. “Evan wants to get even—says you caught twice as many as he did last time.”

  “Sis?” Andrew gazed at Cassie in appeal.

  “If you can get Hector to cover—”

  “I can go, Shane. When?”

  Shane exchanged amused glances with Cassie. “When your sister says it’s all right.”

  Andrew’s face lit with excitement as Cassie urged the horses to start moving. “’Bye, Shane. Thanks!”

  Shane returned the boy’s wave, watching the wagon move out of sight. Cassie and Millicent discussed the ups and downs of the morning as their wagon moved homeward, while Andrew contentedly aimed his slingshot at the passing scenery. Cassie couldn’t resist teasing Millicent about Ringer’s attention. They laughed as they rounded another bend in the road beneath a canopy of trees.

  Suddenly shots rang out, seeming to explode from all around them. Terrified, Cassie snapped the reins, and the horses bolted forward. Hearing the whizzing of bullets around them, she shouted at Millicent and Andrew to stay low while she urged the horses on. Cassie continued her hell-bent pace for two more miles until she felt Millicent tugging at her arm, trying to shout above the wind.

  “I think we can slow down now, Cass.”

  Cassie scanned the area fearfully and saw the reason in Millicent’s words. Apparently no one was pursuing them. Whoever had been shooting had no doubt hidden in the protection of the trees. Waiting to ambush them.

  Cassie pulled over to the side of the road, her hands trembling. Twisting around to check on Andrew, she found him frightened but unharmed.

  “Would you like me to drive home, Cass?” Millicent asked, her voice steady, unlike the pounding of Cassie’s heart.

  “That might be best, Milly.” Aware of the defeat in her own voice, Cassie held up unsteady hands, looking at them in surprise. She hadn’t known she would react this way to danger, having always thought of herself as self-sufficient. What a laughable notion.

  Taking a ragged breath, she handed the reins to Millicent, praying they’d be lucky enough to escape next time.

  Sunshine dappled through the leaves of the surrounding trees, creating a cutwork pattern of light and dark on the sparse grass covering the ground. Strolling along, Millicent ducked to avoid a low-hanging limb just as Ringer turned to lift the obstructing branch. Self-consciously they smiled at one another as they almost collided.

  Millicent’s natural shyness around men had reasserted itself, and she couldn’t help questioning what a handsome man like Ringer saw in an old spinster like herself. Shyly she ducked her head, feeling his gaze warm her face. She’d had countless dreams about their times together, and she shook her head at her own whimsy. Even sillier were her dreams of their future together…

  “Milly, it’s time we talked about what happened.”

  She averted her face, determined to enjoy the walk instead of dwelling on the horror of being ambushed.

  “No one was hurt.” Millicent shrugged aside his concern, knowing where this conversation was headed, just as many others had been.

  “This time.” Ringer’s voice sounded taut with anxiety. “Next time you might not be so lucky.”

  She avoided his eyes. “We don’t know whether there’ll be a next time.”

  Grasping her arms firmly, he pulled her face even with his. “Until Cassie wises up and sells the land, there’ll always be a next time.”

  Millicent pulled away, walking beneath the shade of a live oak tree. “I don’t want to fight with you about this again, Ringer. We’re not giving up.”

  Ringer flung his hat to the ground in agitation. “If you understood what the people in this valley went through with Luke Dalton, you’d know it’s not a matter of if you’ll be run out, but when.”

  She turned a shocked face toward him, surprised at his vehemence. It wasn’t a normal part of his nature.

  “Ringer?” she questioned softly, knowing instinctively he’d been holding something back.

  But he turned away, the muscle in his cheek twitching with an obvious effort to stay under control. Millicent had to know what was causing a gentle man like Ringer such anguish. Moving in front of him, she gently touched his arm.

  “Tell me.”

  He hesitated, but finally the words spilled out of him like embers dredged up from the coals of a fire.

  “It was so damn hot,” he began. Millicent watched his face twist in agony as the tale unfolded. “What water we had dried up. I spent every day from sunup till dark riding my land, trying to keep my stock alive.” Ringer laughed humorlessly. “The cattle still died. There wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it. But still I kept going out every day.”

  He paused, recalling a past full of pain. “And Katherine was expectin’. She was only about two weeks away.” His voice grew hoarse, and Millicent swallowed the growing lump in her own throat, feeling his anguish, knowing with a growing horror where his story was leading. “Only water we had left at the house was stagnant—the water was so low by then. I’d meant to ride over to the Lancers and get some drinking water for the family, but instead I went to see about the stock.”

  He paused again, passing a hand over his face. “Katherine drew the water that had gone bad. She and my son drank it. By the time I made it home that night, it was too late. Katherine lasted through the night, but by morning she was gone. My boy died that afternoon.”

  Millicent moved close to him, taking her hand in his, barely wincing when his hand bore painfully down on hers as he tried to contain the anguish spilling forth. But she didn’t mind the pain, wishing she could absorb more of his grief.

  “I wanted to kill Luke Dalton for cutting off my water.”

  Ringer paused, and for a moment Millicent felt the same murderous determination in her heart. Cassie’s uncle must have been heartless to allow a pregnant woman and child to die from tainted water.

  “Then Luke rode over and broke do
wn. Said he’d never intended for things to go so far. Somehow, after he’d pulled himself back together, Luke and me wound up burying my wife and boy.” Ringer shook his head at the strange memory. “But I knew even if he had cut off the water, it was my fault they died. I should have been with Katherine when she needed me, instead of putting the cattle first.”

  Millicent flinched at the bitterness in his voice and leaped to his defense.

  “But you were seeing to your livelihood! It wasn’t for yourself. It was for your family. You knew you couldn’t lose all the cattle and still provide for them. You didn’t have a choice.” Millicent’s voice was strident with her belief in him, and Ringer raised his troubled gaze to hers.

  “I never thought of it like that.”

  “You never let yourself,” Millicent answered softly. “Not even you could be in both places at once. I’m sure Katherine understood.”

  Millicent blinked back a tear as she thought of the pain and guilt Ringer had lived with for so long. Realizing she held his arm intimately, Millicent grew suddenly embarrassed. Moving away from him awkwardly, she leaned against a tree trunk.

  If Ringer sensed her discomfort, he gave no outward sign. Since the day she’d pummeled him with her laundry, he’d been attentive, solicitous, and every inch the gentleman. Maybe that was what bothered her. She longed to feel his arms crushing her close. Glancing around at the trees swaying in the gentle wind, Milly realized this was the first time they’d been alone since he’d held her in his arms and called her beautiful.

  Ringer was overwhelmingly conscious of the same thought. Since that day with Milly, he’d purposely held himself back. She’d unleashed emotions he thought had been buried so deep they had died. He’d wanted nothing more than to possess her that very day. But Millicent was no ordinary woman. Underneath her prickly humor was a sensitive, lonely woman who, he was sure, was innocent as the day she was born.

  Gazing into her face, he realized she seemed softer somehow. True, her hair now fell into soft waves by her face, rather than being pulled tightly into a serviceable knot. But it was the luminescence of her smile and eyes that transformed her features—along with a belief in him that warmed his soul in a way he’d never thought possible.

  It was her smile that caught him now as Milly glanced up before sinking to the ground and pulling her skirt in a circle around her knees. He’d been so worried about her since the day of the shooting. He’d wanted to take her home and protect her but knew he had no right to do so.

  Sinking to the ground beside her, he carefully held himself a proper distance away. Ringer caught Millicent’s eyes as they registered this deliberate action, seeing all of her uncertainty returning in full force. He nearly groaned aloud when, abashed, she cast her face downward. Unable to still the motion, he reached out to place a gentle hand beneath her chin. Cupping her face, he lifted her chin upward until her face was level with his.

  “Thanks for believin’ in me, Milly.”

  And gently Ringer tipped her face toward his, the orchestration of breeze and sunshine completing the circle of his thoughts.

  26

  Andrew picked his way carefully through the rocks, watching for rattlers as he climbed upward on the butte. The harsh sun glinted off the boulders, slowing his progress as he stared into the blinding light. The first pinging sound whizzed by his shoulder, and the boy stood stock-still, not certain of its source. The second ping struck the rock beside his hand and ricocheted away. Bullets!

  Andrew flung himself to the ground, terrified to move. He saw Pepe standing guard over him and pulled the brave little dog down to the ground beside him.

  Andrew lifted his head carefully to look around as Pepe growled threateningly beside him. Rolling over slightly, Andrew uncovered the rifle Evan had given him. Ducking behind the outcrop of rocks, he carefully scanned the butte and craggy hillside. Pepe started to rise, his haunches stiffened in defense. Andrew bit out a quiet, solitary command: “Stay.”

  The dog reluctantly dropped back, continuing to growl low in his throat as Andrew searched the brush for whoever was shooting at him. He was afraid to raise his gun, aware that the sunlight glinting off the barrel would reveal his hiding place behind the rocks.

  Scouring the concealing groundcover above him, Andrew detected a quick flash just before someone’s gun roared again. Andrew stared in wonder at the blood welling on his leg.

  Shock forced him to keep his head down for a moment, then he drew a fortifying breath and eased his rifle from beneath its concealing cover. Knowing his shot must count, Andrew leveled his aim with great care, focused on the exact spot where he’d seen the earlier flash, and pulled the trigger. Silence greeted him. Slowly he lowered his weapon and scanned the butte for signs of life. Nothing.

  He’d expected a roar of retaliating fire, and the sudden silence unnerved him. An unbidden thought leaped forward. What if he’d hit whoever was shooting at him?

  Swallowing the growing lump in his throat, he slid downward as quickly as his wounded leg would allow, letting the scrubby brush hide him. He didn’t know what scared him more: the prospect that whoever shot at him was alive and waiting to pick him off, or that he might have hit the other man who could be lying dead. Andrew grabbed Pepe’s sturdy body and held him close. Nothing in his meager twelve years of life had prepared him for this threat to his existence.

  The sound of hooves striking rock nearby penetrated his fear. Releasing Pepe, Andrew grabbed his rifle, holding it close to his body. He felt the dampness of his own sweat that beaded and clung as his fear increased, mingled with the pinpricks of thorns torturing his already shivering muscles. He swallowed convulsively as a shower of pebbles rained down the path beside him. The rider was closer!

  Andrew screwed his eyes shut momentarily, praying and wishing for help. Realizing he had only himself to count on, Andrew forced himself to creep forward. To face…

  “Andrew!” The soft call was tinged with concern, and Andrew couldn’t control the sudden shaking in his body, the overwhelming desire to be protected.

  “Shane?” Andrew’s tentative cry reached Shane, who whipped his horse back to the ridge he’d just passed. Dismounting quickly, Shane reached the boy just as he was crawling from beneath the overhanging thorny brush.

  “It’s all right. I’m here now, boy. I heard shots—”

  “Someone tried to kill me!”

  Shane’s face grew as grim as Andrew’s. “Are you all right?”

  Andrew nodded shakily, his face pale.

  Shane glanced at Andrew’s leg and bent down to wrap his own bandanna around the wound. “Looks clean,” he muttered. Then louder, “Let’s get out of here.” Shane grasped Andrew’s shoulder, giving him an encouraging squeeze, while glancing at the now forbidding-looking scrub surrounding them. “Now.”

  When Cassie heard the news of Andrew’s misadventure, she looked every bit as upset as Shane had imagined she would. Anger, fear, and frustration battled for dominance. Finally, despair won.

  “Why?” she asked wearily, still not relinquishing her hold on Andrew who squirmed a bit under her close inspection. Not expecting an answer, she turned to Andrew as though seeking to reassure herself that his wound wasn’t serious. Puzzlement dawned in her eyes.

  “How did you know how to shoot a rifle, Andrew? We’ve never had weapons at home.”

  Andrew ducked his head and mumbled, “Shane and Evan taught me.”

  “What?” Her eyes widened in disbelief and burgeoning anger.

  “Would you rather the boy hadn’t known how to defend himself, Cassie?” Shane’s quiet voice washed over her, and she blanched at the thought of the consequences had he not known how to shoot. But blast it all, she should have been consulted.

  Shane continued calmly. “You won’t like hearing this, but you have to admit I was right about selling out.” He saw the flare of resistance in her eyes and ignored it. Deliberately he made his voice flat. “Is your pride worth Andrew’s life?” The pain in her eyes t
riggered a flood of guilt, but he refused to succumb to it. He had to make her understand this wasn’t Boston, and people here didn’t play by a prescribed set of rules. Fortunes were made or lost on a whim—and lives were sacrificed for even less. It was time she understood that.

  Cassie stroked Andrew’s head silently and looked at his exhausted face, realizing he’d fallen asleep, as only children can do, to escape his fear. Gently, she eased a needlepoint-covered pillow under his head and stretched his legs out on the rigid settee.

  Rising, she walked into the dining room and crossed over to the window, staring sightlessly out toward the plain. She kept her voice low as she answered Shane.

  “You’ve won.”

  Three long strides put Shane within inches of her.

  “Don’t you understand?” he questioned, grasping her elbow and turning her around to face him. “This isn’t a fight—there aren’t going to be any winners and losers. This is a question of your survival.”

  A sudden determination flared in her eyes. “It is survival, isn’t it, Shane?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued. “I really thought I could make people like me simply by being a good neighbor. I’ve been a fool.” Her tone was bitter. “I guess I’ll have to use the same methods my dear neighbors have.”

  Shane stared at her in disbelief.

  “Don’t worry, Shane. I don’t intend to go gunning for them. I have something even more effective to use.” Crossing to the desk, she located the hidden pigeonhole and pulled out a paper. Silently she handed the document outlining her water rights to Shane.

  “If you put this in force, you’ll be declaring war.”

  She cut her eyes in Andrew’s direction. “They already did that this afternoon.”

  Grasping her arms again, Shane brought her to within inches of his body. “You don’t know what you’re asking for! I won’t have you risking your fool neck just to get even.”

  “Do you really think that’s what this is all about? Revenge?”

  “Well, isn’t it?” he bit out, his face close to hers.