Kane's tone was as hard as his features. "I came back to clear my name. I won't leave until it's done."
Rusty rubbed his jaw. "It won't be easy," he ventured. "I asked a lot of questions when you were sittin' in jail and got nowheres. Seems to me the only way to clear your name is to find out who really killed Lorelei."
"My idea exactly," Kane said grimly.
Rusty gave him a long, slow look. "Say, why don't you come back to my place? Mary Beth and I don't have an extra bed, but if you don't mind a few chickens scratchin' around, you can bunk out in the barn."
Kane raised his brows. "Mary Beth?"
Rusty beamed. "My wife," he said proudly. "Been married a year now. Bought ourselves some land just west of town." He grinned. "You're lookin' at a farmer now, but we hope to buy a few head of cattle next year."
So Rusty had a wife now. Kane wasn't surprised; Rusty was an amicable, likeable fellow. But the threat of being caught again was very real. He might well be putting Rusty and his wife in harm's way as well.
"I don't know," Kane said slowly. "It's mighty generous of you to offer, but I don't want to put the two of you in danger."
Rusty flashed a grin again. "I'll take my chances. Besides, this way you'll have a chance to think things through, without worrying about some damn fool finding out who you are before you're ready for it."
Kane took off his hat and thrust his fingers through his hair. "All right," he agreed reluctantly. "But just for tonight."
An hour later he found himself in Rusty's kitchen, scraping the last of a mouth-wateringly delicious beef stew from his plate. He swallowed appreciatively. His gaze lifted to the diminutive dark-haired woman who was Rusty's wife.
He laid down his fork and smiled across at her. "Best meal I've had in years, ma'am."
Mary Beth flushed with pleasure. She was plump and rosy-cheeked, and it was readily apparent there would soon be an addition to the family.
Rusty scraped his chair back. He piled the empty plates together and carried them to the washtub. I'll see to those later," he said firmly. "You're supposed to rest whenever you can, but if I know you, you've been on your feet since sunup."
Mary Beth sighed. "Sometimes," she scolded gently, "you know me a little too well."
Kane refilled his coffee cup. "When's the baby due?" he asked.
Rusty resumed his seat next to Mary Beth. He reached out to pat her round belly with a familiar hand. "This little rooster's about to hatch any day now," he said with a chuckle.
Mary Beth swatted his hand away. "A rooster? Who's to say it's not a hen?"
Rusty's expression softened. He slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "You know I don't much care either way, as long as you're both all right."
Kane deliberately averted his eyes. An odd sensation knotted around his chest. Rusty and Mary Beth were obviously very much in love, and didn't care who knew it. A knife-like pain sliced through him. That, he realized, was what he wanted for himself and Abby. A home, filled with love and warmth. And like Rusty and Mary Beth, the chance to have a baby of their own.
His mind came to a skidding halt. A baby. Kane's palms grew clammy. That was something he hadn't considered. He knew damn well Abby hadn't. Lord God, she might even now be carrying his baby.
Christ! Maybe he'd been wrong to leave. But he wanted his life back. He wanted his name back. He wanted the chance to live his life without constantly looking over his shoulder.
He was only half-aware of excusing himself. Outside on the porch, he dragged in a lungful of stinging night air, trying to clear his spinning thoughts. Was this a fool's errand after all? The only way to clear his name was to find Lorelei's murderer. And how the hell was he supposed to do that? He had no idea where to begin. Lorelei had had no enemies that he'd known of. He'd discounted robbery long ago. Nothing had been missing from the house.
Rusty joined him out on the porch a few minutes later. Kane stared up at the inky night sky. "What happened after I escaped?" he asked quietly.
Rusty let out a long breath. "It's been so long now, it's hard to remember," he admitted. "Seems like there was a big uproar for a couple of days."
"Led by anybody in particular?"
"Not as I recall," Rusty began. All at once he stopped short. "No," he said slowly. "No, that's not right. There was somebody who was pretty vocal about Sheriff Keenan sending out a posse."
Kane grimaced. 'The sheriff never liked me to begin with. He was damned eager to see me strung up."
"Oh, he was a mean-spirited coot if there ever was," Rusty agreed. He was silent for a moment, then suddenly snapped his fingers.
"Allan Mason, that's who it was. He's the one who insisted the sheriff send out a posse—even went along, as I recall."
Allan Mason. There was an elusive tug deep in Kane's brain. Allan Mason had been Lorelei's attorney.
Kane was silent for a moment. "I rode past the ranch on my way in. Looks like it's been kept up pretty well." He paused. "What happened to it once I was gone?"
"It was put up for auction and sold to the highest bidder." Rusty's features were grim. "And I'll give you one guess as to who that was." He stared at Kane expectantly.
The pieces began to fit together... Suddenly it all made perfect sense ... "Christ! Don't tell me it was Allan Mason."
Rusty nodded. "Never thought about it before, but it's a hell of a coincidence."
Kane cursed himself for a fool. Lord, he should have known. But at the time, all that mattered was finding a way to stay alive.
His laugh was harsh. "More than a coincidence, I'd say. I remember Lorelei rode into town to see Mason just a few days before she was killed. Said she planned to have my name added to the title for the ranch. Hell, that was even used as evidence against me!"
Rusty rubbed his chin. "You know what I think? I think maybe Mason decided to get rid of her, and lay the blame on you so's he could buy himself her ranch—and dirt cheap, too, from what I heard!"
"You're probably right. But how the hell am I supposed to prove it? Nobody believed me four years ago. They thought I was just a drifter lucky enough to marry the boss, and then got rid of her so I could get my hands on her ranch." He moved down the stairs, then paced in a tight circle.
"Allan Mason is a goddamned saint in this town. Who the hell would believe me over him?" He kicked savagely at the dust. "I don't have a damned thing to go on! It would be Mason's word against mine."
"But if the sheriff were to hear it for himself—"
Kane's lip curled. "The sheriff! Hell, if I show up on his doorstep he'll string me up in the nearest tree!"
Rusty shook his head. "I don't think so," he said softly. "No, I don't think so at all."
Kane shot him a venomous glare. "Man, you're loco! You know damn well he would!"
The merest hint of a smile lurked on Rusty's mouth. "No," he stated calmly. "You see, Keenan's dead. And the sheriff who took his place just happens to be my brother-in-law."
Saturday nights at the ranch were always quiet as a tomb. Most of the ranch hands rode into town to spend their hard-earned money drinking, playing poker and whoring. It would be morning before they staggered back to the bunkhouse, smelly and still half-drunk, many of them broke but happy as a bee in a field of clover.
Allan Mason had every intention of joining his boys in town, but he was in no hurry. He had learned to take life easy, to snatch at opportunity as it came his way. He strode into his study, a brandy in his hand. A smug smile of satisfaction creased his lips as he eased into the chair behind the wide mahogany desk. He glanced around, admiring the pine-paneled walls, the rich dark furniture.
He leaned back and laced his fingers over a belly given to excess. Behind him, a cool evening breeze fluttered through the curtains at the window. A mirthful laugh erupted. He had more than he'd ever dreamed of--and it had cost him so little! Oh, yes, he gloated, this ranch had been a real steal.
"Maybe," came a lazy drawl from behind him, "you'd care to share
the joke with me."
Cold steel butted the back of his neck. Mason froze. "What the hell?" he gasped.
Slowly the intruder stepped around him and into the circle of lamplight. Mason gaped as he beheld a face he'd never thought to see again.
"Big of you to keep up the place while I was gone, Mason. Looks like you've kept things real nice."
Mason swallowed. "You're a fool to come back here, Kane. There's a noose in town just waiting to stretch your neck."
Kane just smiled, a smile that made Mason's blood run cold. "You're already wanted for one murder, Kane. Do you really want to make it two?"
"Ah, but we both know I didn't kill Lorelei. Don't we, Mason?"
The man said nothing. Kane raised the barrel of his Colt until it was level with his heart. His eyes were glittering shards of onyx. "I won't ask again, Mason. We both know I didn't kill her, don't we?"
Time spun out endlessly. The air was laden with expectancy. For one horrifying moment, Kane feared he had come all this way for nothing—that Mason would refuse to cooperate. But just when he'd nearly given up hope, Mason burst out, "All right, I—I'll tell you. I know you didn't kill Lorelei."
Kane's gaze narrowed. "It was you, wasn't it? You killed her—or did you have someone else do it for you?"
"It was me," he admitted, his voice very low.
More than anything Kane wanted to reach across the desk and curl his fingers around Mason's pudgy neck. With an effort he restrained his fury. "Speak up, Mason. I can't hear you."
"It was me."
"Louder."
"I just told you, it was me! I killed her. I shot Lorelei! Now just put away that damn gun!"
Kane's fingers unclenched around the handle of his Colt. He had to force himself to slide the weapon back into its holster.
"Just to set the record straight, I'd like to know why."
The immediate threat to his life now removed, Mason's eyes blazed. "Why? Because she was a fool, that's why! She could have had me, but she turned to you, a dirty, no-good cowboy—as if I wasn't good enough for her!"
The stirrings of an old memory resurfaced. Dimly Kane recalled Lorelie telling him that she'd been seeing Mason after Emmett had died. She'd said it was hardly serious, and so it had slipped his mind.
Kane's expression hardened. "She came to see you about having my name added to hers, so that we were co-owners of the ranch. And her will. . . She told me she'd changed her will, too, and named me as her heir. That's when you decided to murder her, didn't you?"
Mason's lips drew back over his teeth. "This ranch is worth a fortune! Why should you have it? Hell, why should she? She proved she was a slut when she let you into her bed. She would never even let me touch her! She didn't deserve it, any more than she deserved me! Oh, but I showed her," he taunted. "If I couldn't have her, I'd damn sure get my hands on her ranch. And then there was you, so much a man you ran like a lily-livered coward." His gaze slid to the gun Kane had replaced in his holster. "Shit, you're too much a coward to shoot me now!"
Kane smiled tightly. "Oh, there's no question I'd like to. But I think the sheriff might have some say-so in what happens to you now."
"The sheriff," Mason sneered. "He'll never believe you. He'll believe me, just like before."
"That's where you're wrong," proclaimed another voice. "In fact, looks to me like Kane here was tried for a crime he didn't commit. And I'd say I've heard enough to lock you up and see that you're tried for murder."
Mason's eyes bulged. He hadn't seen the shadowy form that had slipped in through the open window. He leaped to his feet and stared at the sheriff as if he'd been struck dumb.
The sheriff, a lean, raw-boned man with keen blue eyes, pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "Yes, indeed, looks like I'd better wire the judge and see about setting a trial date."
A rush of giddy relief swept through Kane. It was over, he realized. He could finally get on with his life. He was free. Free to go back to Wyoming.
And back to Abby.
Chapter 20
At first the hurt was more than Abby could stand. She couldn't believe Kane had cleared out, packed his belongings and left, with no explanation--
With no good-bye.
She remembered vividly the exact moment when she stood in the barn, staring in disbelief at Midnight's empty stall. It seemed like yesterday that she had desperately wanted to scream aloud her pain and heartache. But all she could do was weep— silent, scalding tears that made no sound.
Six weeks later there were no more tears left. Her anguish had given way to a bitter resentment.
She experienced a wrench of shame every time she thought of how completely she had given herself to him—how she had held nothing back. In the cold light of day, Abby was under no illusions. Despite the unforgettable night they had shared, she knew he wouldn't be back. After all, he'd made no promises, nor had he given her any reason to hope he felt the same. Certainly he hadn't been foolish enough to profess undying love.
July passed into August, and August into September. Kane had been gone less than a week when Buck Russell began calling on her. The first time was to express his sympathies for the loss of her father. The second was to escort her to Sunday services in town. Out of courtesy more than anything else, Abby had asked him to stay for dinner. Dillon hadn't been pleased when he found out Buck's visits had become almost a daily occurrence.
"How come he's sniffing around your skirts now, little sister? Why after all this time?"
"You haven't liked him since the time he bloodied your nose over that Hawkins girl when the two of you were fifteen," Abby said crossly.
His jaw thrust out. "He's no bargain, Abby. He was a womanizer even then. Hell, he still is! He's a regular at the Silver Spur. Believe me, I know. Why, Pa wouldn't have let him anywhere near you!" '
"Whatever faults Buck Russell may have, he's a shrewd businessman," Abby said challengingly. "He knows this land and cattle like the back of his hand. He's a damn good rancher. Even Pa thought so."
"He's not the right man for you, Abby. You know it as well as I do. Hell, we both know it's the Diamondback he wants!"
Abby's lips tightened. She wasn't going to blind herself the way she had with Kane. She suspected it wouldn't be long before Buck Russell proposed marriage. Buck might not be a prize, but he knew how to run an operation the size of the Diamondback. These past two months had taught her she couldn't handle it all herself. She needed someone she could rely on day after day—not someone like Dillon who lent a hand only when he could spare the time; more importantly, because he felt he had to, not because he wanted to.
"You know as well as I do the Diamondback meant everything to Pa," she said sharply. "I'm simply looking out for the future."
"The future," he snorted. "Sounds to me like you've got a lot more on your mind than an escort for the Saturday-night shindig!"
"And what if I do? I'm twenty-one years old. It's high time I got married!"
"Not to the likes of Buck Russell!"
For the life of her, Abby didn't know when she'd ever seen Dillon more furious. But there was no use pining for what could never be. If she'd learned nothing else these past weeks, she'd learned that.
Dillon paced around the parlor. Finally he ground to a halt on the braided rug before her. "What about you, Abby? What about what you want? A pen full of steers and acres and acres of grassland won't keep you warm at night. It won't keep you company when you're old and gray!"
Her laugh was short. "My, my, this is certainly a change. When did you decide to start cozying up to home and hearth?"
He glared at her. "This isn't me we're talking about here, little sister—it's you. Which reminds me . .. What about Kane?"
Abby drew a sharp breath. Kane was the one thing she didn't want to discuss, not with Dillon or anyone else. She struggled for a calm she was far from feeling. "Kane has nothing at all to do with this," she said shortly.
Dillon's eyes narrowed. "Don't play innocent with me, Abby. I had
a feeling something was going on the way you fell apart when he got shot. Then when he was here at the ranch you hardly left him alone for two minutes! It was pretty damn obvious you were sweet on him."
Abby flushed painfully. She hadn't realized she'd been so obvious. But Dillon's reaction was puzzling. She had been so convinced the very idea of his sister associating with a man like Kane would have blown the lid off his temper.
"It's probably better that he did go," she said, her voice very low. She had told Dillon about Kane's wife and how he'd been framed for her murder. "Even if he didn't kill his wife, he rode with Stringer Sam—"
"Even the best of men make mistakes, Abby. Sometimes a gut reaction is the only thing a man can rely on." He gave a harsh laugh. "Believe me, I know. And if I had thought Kane was a coldblooded murderer, he wouldn't have set foot on this ranch. He sure as hell wouldn't have stayed in this house with you. And there's a part of me that wonders if Kane wouldn't be a damn sight better for you than Buck Russell."
His defense of Kane made her want to hang her head in shame.
"I'm afraid I can't agree," she told him quietly. "Besides, Kane's gone. And it's just as I said. I have to look out for the ranch."
Dillon rolled his eyes. "So we're back to that again, are we?"
His condescending tone sparked the fuse on Abby's temper. She jumped to her feet. "Let's be honest with each other, Dillon. Why don't you just admit this ranch doesn't mean a damn thing to you—it never did!"
Dillon stared at her. But his mind had drifted back in time ... Once, he thought vaguely, once he might have been able to settle down here, the way Pa had wanted ... A knifelike twinge cut into his heart. How different things might have been, if only Rose had lived! With her at his side, he might have been happy here. Pa's dream of making the Diamondback a family operation might have been his dream, too. But Rose was gone. And so was Pa.
And his life had been forever changed.
With an effort he dragged himself back to the present. "What do you want me to say, Abby?" His voice was gritty with suppressed emotion. "Do you think I didn't think long and hard before I signed up to scout for the army? You were just a kid so you don't remember. I knew how much Pa wanted me to stay here and work the ranch with him. But I just wasn't cut out for ranching, for this kind of life." He paused. "You're like Pa," he said finally. "This land, this ranch, meant everything to him."
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