“No, it’s establishing what’s mine. I won’t have my brother shot, my sheep slaughtered.” Or my land stolen, she raged silently. “Your friends think they’re dealing with a few weak women and a boy, but I have the law on my side. And I’m going to start damming up the water tomorrow!”
“Do you think they’ll just sit back and accept that? Then they’ll really have a reason to go for blood.”
“Apparently they didn’t even need a reason for what they did,” Cassie answered, waving an angry hand toward the other room in Andrew’s direction. “Perhaps if they know I mean business, they’ll leave us alone.”
Shane’s fingers tightened around her arms, wanting to shake some sense into her. When she looked up at him, her expression showed she was wounded, hurting.
Intending to offer only a comforting embrace, he pulled her close. As he did, he tried to guess what it was about Cassie that made him toss aside a lifetime of control. Knowing he should turn his back on her unbreakable grip on his heart, instead he pulled her close. Savoring her softness, he knew she was forcing him to make a decision. Could he choose this violet-eyed sprite and turn his back on his past, on the promises he knew he had to uphold?
She was achingly beautiful, but he’d known his share of beautiful women. None had made him cast aside his natural caution. And certainly none had inspired him to want to lay the earth at her feet.
But as he held her small yet strong frame in his arms, Shane found he wanted to do that and more. He wanted to sweep her away from the ugliness she’d felt since she’d moved here. He wanted to protect and cherish her. The irony of it struck him. Astonished at the direction his thoughts moved unbidden, Shane tightened his embrace, tipping her chin up.
But Cassie stiffened as his mouth started to descend on hers, and he felt her wrench away.
“I know you think I’m a desperate female, Shane Lancer, but not this desperate. I’m lucky Andrew has only a flesh wound. But I won’t forget how he came by it and I won’t forget the part you’ve played in this whole stupid war.”
Shaken, Cassie strove to catch her breath. Bob Jensen pushed the door open and came in, carrying a load of firewood. Cassie stepped across the room as he dumped the wood into the box. She wanted to be as far away from Shane as possible.
Yet as though his will alone compelled her, she found herself meeting Shane’s gaze across the room. Warm fingers of desire crept up her spine as she read the promise implicit in his eyes. Her mind whirled in the crowded confusion of her own thoughts, trying to control the message he read in her own.
27
True to her word, the next morning Cassie started carrying out her plans to dam up the water. She had to coerce Hector, the Basque, into helping her. “Reluctant” scarcely explained his feelings. He’d been adamantly opposed to her plans.
She’d finally convinced him to help, but he made it clear by every word and action that he disapproved of her wishes. Even now, as he’d taken the wagon for another load of supplies, he’d left muttering incoherently and crossing himself at regular intervals as though hoping divine intervention might change Cassie’s stubborn set of mind.
Knee deep in the mucky sludge, Cassie swiped at a scraggly lock of hair that kept falling into her eyes. Lifting her head, she gazed at the Russian mulberry and silver poplar trees flanking the low banks of the muddy river. They sprouted at odd angles from the shore as though the wind had pushed them in one direction, while the sun and water tugged them in another. Stripped of leaves, the trees shivered in naked shame as the wind snaked mournfully through the barren branches.
Shaking off the sudden oppressive feeling their image created, Cassie bent back to the task at hand. She tugged at the log she was putting into place, wishing she could hire more men to complete the job. None of the locals would be willing to dam up the water. Brady and Bob Jensen were reluctant accomplices at best.
Cassie glanced across the banks of the river, spotting riders headed her way. There were at least a dozen men in the group, she realized, her stomach lurching with her growing fear. It had been easy to sound brave when she’d stood in the comfort of her own home, resolutely planning to defy her neighbors. But now, alone on the plain, she didn’t feel so brave. Her sweeping gaze raked the surrounding area, and Cassie realized with growing dread that she was undeniably alone.
Squaring her shoulders and lifting her head, Cassie unconsciously clenched the shovel held in her gloved hands. She’d made her stand and now had to abide by it. The group of men rode to the riverbank across from where she stood, pulling up their mounts and staring down at her. Their very position, from the height of the horses, lent them strength, giving them an automatic advantage. Resentfully, Cassie realized this as she searched their faces, feeling the collective anger and hate that emanated from all of them.
Recognizing Jacob Robertson’s red, bull-like face, she sensed immediately that he was the leader. His first words confirmed the notion.
“You won’t get away with this, missy.” His face seemed to mottle even more than usual as he wagged a thick, sausagelike finger in her direction.
Before she could answer, another member of the group spoke up. “Now, Robertson, you know we decided to try and reason this out.”
Cassie directed her attention to the second speaker, vaguely recognizing him from the barn dances. Yes, he was Adam Reynolds, her neighbor who owned a good-sized spread to the south of her property. He was entirely dependent on the water she was damming up.
Reynolds tipped his hat in her direction. “Ma’am.”
Containing an urge to order them off her property, Cassie instead acknowledged his greeting with a cool nod.
“I guess you know why we’re here. This water feeds all the streams on our property,” Reynolds stated.
Cassie made her voice expressionless. “I’m aware of that.”
“Well, then you must know you can’t dam it up!” the burly cowhand next to Reynolds burst out.
“I know no such thing.” The steely determination in Cassie’s eyes didn’t falter. “I have every legal right. If you doubt it, you can see the deed I filed with the assayer.”
Reynolds tried to inject a note of reason. “We don’t doubt you have the paper, but there’s no reason to—”
“No reason?” Cassie’s voice reverberated with suppressed fury. “You call slaughtering my sheep and shooting at me and my family no reason?”
“Now, hold on just a minute! We didn’t have nothing to do with them things!” the same burly cowhand who’d spoken before asserted.
Cassie flicked her eyes dispassionately over all of them. “Am I supposed to believe you?”
“We don’t care what you believe—”
“Hold on.” Once again Reynolds tried to intervene. He directed his words to Cassie. “Your uncle—”
“Didn’t have a chance to dam it up again. How convenient that he was ‘accidentally’ killed before he could.” Her words were an accusation, and Cassie was slightly satisfied by the stunned expressions on their faces. It was as though they’d taken one collective breath of disbelief and held it. As she searched each face, the telling silence lingered. Only on one face did she see a flicker of emotion other than disbelief. But Jacob Robertson quickly schooled his features to reflect no more emotion than his comrades. When her gaze returned to sweep over each in turn, she wondered if she’d imagined the difference on his face.
“Now, I suggest that you gentlemen get off my property.”
Reynolds tried one more time. “You don’t know what your uncle caused when he—”
“I know everything I need to. Now I want you to leave.”
“Mighty brave words from an unarmed woman,” Robertson growled.
Cassie swallowed her fear, not blinking or giving an inch.
Robertson gaited his horse backward. “We’ll leave for now, but we’ll be back. And when we do, we’ll have the law on our side. No court’s going to let a Dalton be the ruination of the territory again.”
> She held her silence as the group cantered away with Robertson in the lead. As Cassie watched them head north, she knew it was no coincidence that they were headed toward Shane’s property.
“Damn it all to hell, Shane. We ain’t gonna let her get away with this. And if you can’t stop her, we will!”
Shane sighed mightily, questioning for the thousandth time how he’d gotten mixed up with the violet-eyed minx who was causing all this ruckus.
“Now, don’t get riled up, boys.”
“Don’t get riled up…?” The unanimous reaction reverberated throughout the room.
Shane held his hand up for quiet. “We’ll work something out. Part of our water here at the Lazy H can be diverted until we find a permanent solution.”
Muttered grumblings could be heard throughout the room at this announcement. While they welcomed his help, Shane knew they wanted him to put a stop to Cassie’s threat.
Reynolds approached Evan, who was twirling a quilled fountain pen in his hand as he sat quietly behind the desk.
“What do you think about this, Evan? You’re the solicitor.”
“Not quite yet,” Evan demurred, wishing he knew what to say to placate his lifelong friends without tossing Cassie to the wolves.
“You’re the closest thing to a solicitor we have in the territory, Evan. Can’t we get some sort of court order to stop what she’s doing? You know—what that lawyer from back East said we shoulda done with ol’ man Dalton when he cut us off.”
Evan continued to toy with the desk set, stalling for time. Given the circumstances, Evan knew it would be relatively easy to obtain a temporary restraining order preventing Cassie from damming up the water. But he also knew it wasn’t a permanent solution to the problem. Feeling as he did about Cassie, Evan didn’t want to be put in the position of hurting her. Even so, he knew the lifelong war between the Lancers and Daltons demanded he side with Shane and his neighbors.
Closing his conscience to his neighbors’ dilemma, Evan responded without looking up. “I wouldn’t know, Adam. I’m still just learning. You’d have to get yourself a full-fledged solicitor to handle this.”
“But that’d mean going back East!”
“Maybe not,” Shane mused, pacing the length of the long room. “You can ride to the nearest telegraph station and wire the man I use in Boston. If he can get us the restraining order, he could wire it back.”
“In the meantime, you’d better do your damn best to change her mind,” Jacob Robertson snarled.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were threatening me.” Shane’s voice was controlled, but a thread of steel was woven through his words.
Robertson chewed on a fingernail in an effort to control his temper. Everyone in the room knew he would depend on Shane’s water until Cassie’s dam came down.
“No threats, Shane. Just figured if anyone could talk her out of this damn fool plan, it’s you.”
“Let me do the figuring, Robertson. Too much thinking doesn’t seem to agree with you.” Shane turned away, but not before he saw the man’s face contort angrily. Shane had more to worry about, however, than Robertson’s hot temper. It was starting all over again, but this time it wouldn’t end with a Lancer licking his wounds.
Pounding hooves disturbed Cassie’s reverie. Reluctantly she rose from the muddy bank and shaded her eyes against the glaring sun. The lone rider approached, and Cassie knew it was Shane. She’d been expecting him ever since the group had ridden toward his home earlier.
As he pulled up his enormous dapple-gray mount, Cassie tried to read his expression without success.
Dismounting, he strode to her side. “Well, you did it,” he stated without ceremony.
“I did,” she answered, equally succinct.
Shane pulled off his hat and flung it in the well-packed dirt. Raking his hands through the tousled chestnut locks that framed his rugged face, he finally raised his arms upward in a shrug of disbelief.
“Why, Cassie?”
She started to answer, but he cut her off.
“I know all the reasons—but why risk your lives over this piece of dirt?”
“Oh, so now it’s a piece of dirt. Is that how you feel about the Lazy H?”
“No, but that’s different. I grew up on my ranch, spent all of my life there.”
“But I should feel differently?”
“You weren’t raised here. You weren’t bred to love the land at the cost of all else.”
“Maybe not, but I haven’t had a home of my own to love since my parents died. That’s all I’ve tried to do since I got here. And everyone, starting with you, has tried to stop me.”
“Only for your own good.”
“Well, I’m tired of you deciding what’s for my own good.”
“If you’d listened, you wouldn’t be in this fix right now.”
“I’m not in a fix. Your friends are!”
“You don’t think they’re just going to lay down and play dead while you cut off their lifeblood, do you?”
“What can they do?” she taunted him, her anger growing in direct proportion to his.
“You mean besides shooting you when you’re all alone in the middle of nowhere?” he goaded her, gesturing to the vast, vacant range surrounding them.
Cassie refused to acknowledge the sudden burst of fear that shot up her spine and lodged in her throat. Unconsciously, she bit down on her lip. “That would be real manly, wouldn’t it?” she sneered with false bravado.
“Manly or not, it’s been done,” he answered, his voice suddenly quiet.
Gazing around them, she realized with chilling clarity that he had her in just such a position. It was suddenly apparent how easy it would be for anyone with murderous intentions to do the same.
“It’s time you reconsidered my offer.”
Cassie jerked her face upward in disbelief. Did Shane think she could be that easily manipulated? Did he think he could warn, threaten, and bully her—and then expect her to sign away the property?
“I guess you’d like that. Then you could report to your friends you’d stopped the ferocious threat to their precious cattle and duped the spinster sheepherder all in one fell swoop.” Her fury intensified until she found herself barely an arm’s length away from him, shaking uncontrollably.
“What I’d like to do,” he retorted, his own anger barely checked as he tried to control his rising voice, “is to save your stupid hide. Right now, I’m not certain why!”
They stood facing one another, each shaking with anger and more. Their joint knowledge of why the thickening tension crackled in the air invited more of the same.
“You insufferable clod! I don’t need you to save me. I’m not a damsel in distress and I’m just as certain you’re no gentleman!”
Images of hot flesh yearning toward one goal suddenly flashed in their eyes. The suffocating cloak of unresolved desire smote the very air they breathed as each took deep, unfulfilling drags of air that did little to relieve their anxiety.
“You’d better hope I’m a gentleman,” he warned in a low voice, taking a step toward her.
“Meaning?” she dared him, not retreating although she felt the heat emanating from his body as he drew even closer.
“Meaning this,” he growled, grasping her arms and drawing her against him. His lips moved forcefully over hers, refusing to relinquish their hold. The unnerving invasion continued as she fought the remembered feelings of his hands covering her body, seeking her most intimate center of desire.
Then slowly he felt the unexpected surrender as she seemed to melt into his arms. And just as suddenly, he found himself under attack. Cursing, he tried to still her efforts as she kicked his booted legs and pounded furious, tiny fists against his chest. At first he thought she was just showing token resistance, but when her well-shod foot connected with his skin through the denim, he let her go to grab his injured leg.
“Damn,” Shane muttered, hobbling backward.
Panting, Cass
ie shot him a look of triumphant fury. He’d almost done it again, she raged silently. The feel of his arms and the weakness he could unerringly create had almost done her in. But one glance at the flowing river had reinforced her strength. He probably thought he could reduce an old spinster to a whimpering state of consent with his sensual prowess, but she refused to give up that easily—even if it meant kicking him all the way to Mexico!
28
Cassie stood by the stone hearth, her feet planted firmly apart as she clenched the dreaded missive in her hand. The letter had been solicitous, but the stark finality of the action played through her mind. And enclosed was the restraining order her determined neighbors had obtained, legally banning her from withholding the water. She started to ball up the offending document, but instead she clutched it in her fist and strode out the door to the barn. Quickly, she saddled her mare and led the horse into the yard.
Concentrating on the source of her fury, Cassie mounted the animal and tore out of her pasture toward the connecting land to the north. She purposely ignored the niggling reminder that Shane had warned her the court would grant the restraining order. He’d told her he didn’t expect her to win and that he hoped she wouldn’t.
When Cassie finally reached Shane’s sprawling ranch house, the horse was winded and her fury had doubled. Mindless of propriety, she pounded on the heavy oak door. Fuming, she paced the wide veranda. Not getting an answer, Cassie flung open the door and barged into the entryway. Looking from left to right, she discovered to her increasing fury that the house appeared empty. Undaunted, she strode forward and found herself in a study. Backing out, Cassie tried to determine where the parlor would be. The T-shaped hallway led in three directions. Pausing only for a moment, Cassie stomped down one hallway.
She opened several doors down the passageway, finding only empty rooms. Frustrated, Cassie continued her search. Finding the rest of the downstairs empty, she ran quickly up the stairs, looking from left to right down a long hallway. Instinctively she turned right.
Summer Rose Page 19