by Mary Burton
“Who’s he named for?”
“His full name is Mackenzie Sinclair.”
“Mackenzie,” Cole repeated, testing the sound of the name. “Where’d you get that name?”
Lily had chosen it. She’d never said why, but she’d wanted her child if it was a boy to bear the name. “I just liked it.”
“That was my grandfather’s name. Ma spoke of him from time to time. She’d always said if he’d lived her life would have been so different.”
Rebecca held her breath. For a moment they stood in silence before she said, “Where did you learn to dance?” hoping to shift the conversation.
“You don’t grow up in saloons without learning a thing or two about dancing.”
“Was it awful growing up there?” She’d spoken before she’d thought. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.”
Cole shrugged. “Don’t be sorry. My childhood wasn’t the best, but my ma loved me in her way.”
“I never knew my mother. She died when I was a baby. It was always father and me.”
“Your father was a good man. He treated me fairly. In fact, he was fixing to promote me if I hadn’t gotten into that scrape with Stan.”
“Father was going to promote you?”
“Surprised?”
“He just never talked to me about business. Of course, I doubt I’d have been very interested. I was very silly then.”
“You laughed a lot then.”
Before she could speak the music started again. This time the tune was slow and melodic, the kind reserved for married folks.
“Perhaps, we’d better sit this one out,” she said.
“Not just yet.”
Cole pulled Rebecca close. Her breasts brushed his chest. Her senses on alert, she tried to move away, but he held her prisoner as he guided their bodies in time with the music.
“This isn’t proper,” she said.
“Stop worrying.”
The heat of his body had a drugging effect. Slowly, she stopped resisting him and succumbed to the urge to lay her head against his chest.
His thigh grazed hers as the music drifted over their heads. Her hand rested on his muscular arm. Sandalwood mingled with his masculine scent. She found herself wondering what it would feel like to surrender to him—if only for one night.
Then the music stopped. She realized she was shamelessly clinging to him. And many people stared at them.
Rebecca pulled free of Cole’s embrace. How could she have let him hold her so close? “I’d better go,” she stammered.
“I’ll walk you back.”
Cole escorted her back to Mrs. Applegate and the other ladies who stopped whispering when the two approached. Mac sat on the ground in front of them content to play with his sticks.
“Thank you.”
“Two dances in a row,” Mrs. Applegate beamed. “Why, folks are gonna start talking about you two.”
Rebecca felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She dared not look at Cole. “They’re just remembering the last man I danced with and the disastrous effect he had on my life.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Applegate said. “We were just saying what a lovely couple you two make.”
Rebecca stared at Mrs. Applegate. “You were?”
“Yes, we were.”
Prudence giggled. “Well, it is only natural.”
The blood drained from Rebecca’s face. “I don’t understand, Prudence.”
“Well, seeing that Cole’s going to buy the mine.”
Stillness came over Rebecca. She looked at Cole. “I’ll never sell the mine to you.”
Cole’s jaw tensed. “You owe a lot of back taxes.”
She clenched her fingers, her back ramrod straight. “No one would ever force me to pay the taxes. Everyone knows I will open the mine one day.” She looked at Mrs. Applegate for support.
“That’s for the men on the town council to decide,” the other woman said.
Rebecca rocked back on her heels. “Which is a polite way of saying they’d sell the mine from underneath me.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Applegate said stiffly.
Rebecca took a step back. “My father built this town. If it weren’t for him, there’d be no White Stone. How can you do this to me?”
Prudence stepped forward, pursing her lips. “Rebecca, this town is dying.”
Rebecca watched the ladies nod their agreement. The mine was her only legacy from her father. “I won’t allow this!”
Mrs. Applegate frowned. “It’s time you stop being selfish and start being realistic. If the town doesn’t foreclose and sell to Cole, there won’t be a town in two years. You’ve had opportunities to sell and you could have married at any time, but you’ve turned down every eligible man who’s tried to court you. Well, you and this town have run out of options. If Cole doesn’t get that mine open, we’re all doomed.”
Mrs. Applegate’s words stung, but Rebecca raised her trembling chin. “Mr. McGuire is unreliable! You’ve all said so yourself.”
“That argument is getting old, Rebecca,” Cole said behind her.
Fists clenched, she turned on him. “Do you know how much money they are talking about?”
“Yes.”
“You couldn’t possibly have enough.”
“I do.”
She looked around at the crowd that had gathered. Gene Applegate. Stan Farthing. Ernie Wade. None looked surprised. “You all knew.”
Wade pulled off his hat. “The council voted to sell Cole the mine an hour ago. We was gonna tell you tomorrow.”
She picked up Mac. “How could you do this to me, Ernie?”
“It’s for the best,” he said.
“I thought you were my friend.”
“I am.”
She whirled away from Wade to address the crowd that had gathered. “We don’t even know Cole McGuire.”
Cole laid his hand on her shoulder. “After I buy the mine, you and I will have all the time in the world to get acquainted.”
Chapter Ten
An hour later, couples square-danced, the men had set up the targets for the shooting contest and the children played kick ball.
Rebecca sat on her quilted blanket under the shade of a tree. Mac lay on his stomach asleep by her side. She’d have left the picnic but Dusty had begged her to stay another hour. He’d looked so happy, she couldn’t deny him. He’d gone off with Prudence’s son, Jared, to look at the horses in the livery.
Cole had kept his distance, spending most of his time dancing. The women in town, bedazzled by his transformation, had flocked. Each had taken a turn dancing with him. And to Rebecca’s annoyance, it stirred jealous feelings.
Everyone was having a wonderful time.
Except Rebecca.
She felt utterly alone, betrayed by the friends whom she’d known the better part of her life. Five days ago, she’d have bet everything that they’d never side with Cole. And she’d have been dead wrong.
Now that they’d struck a deal with Cole, what would stop someone from telling him about Mac? It was a matter of time before the entire truth tumbled out.
A dark shadow fell on her. She looked up to see Cole. He held a plate with two slices of cake. “Can I sit down?”
“No.”
Cole sat down next to her and stretched out his long legs over her blanket. “I brought you a peace offering.”
“Go away.”
Unruffled, he set the plate down. “Have some cake.”
“Ernie wouldn’t like it.”
Laughter sparkled in Cole’s eyes. “He’s not been near you for the last hour. I think you scared him off.”
“I have not.”
An awkward silence fell between them and for a time they sat not saying a word. “No one in town wants to see you unhappy. And they wouldn’t have sold me the mine if they weren’t scared for their own livelihood.”
He was right. But that didn’t erase her fear.
Cole laid his hand on Mac’s bottom and watched the gentl
e rise and fall of the boy’s back. He stared at the child for a long moment before he said, “You’re lucky to have him.”
“I know.” She choked back tears.
Cole plucked a blade of grass then tossed it aside. “Why don’t you trust me? Is my past so awful to you?”
She’d held herself in reserve since the moment they’d met. He knew it and it was becoming a sore point with him. “No.”
He was silent, as if mustering patience. “Then don’t you think it’s time we called a truce?”
Her back stiffened. “I didn’t realize we were at war.”
“Right.” Anger swirled beneath his words. “If you weren’t so stubborn we could reopen that mine together. We could do so much more if we were partners.”
He touched Mac’s silky blond hair and she had to fight the urge to slap his hand away. He’s my child! “No.”
“What do you have against me?” he said, trying to control his temper.
Nothing. Everything. “Just leave me alone.”
He muttered a curse. “I’m taking over the mine whether you like it or not. I’m gonna be in your life for a long time so do yourself a favor and make peace with the idea.”
Sheriff Wade approached, his hands shoved in his pockets. He was careful not to meet Rebecca’s gaze. He looked like a schoolboy facing down his teacher. “The shooting contest is about to begin. Thought you might like to take a crack at it, Cole.”
Cole stretched out his long legs. “I don’t have my rifle with me so maybe another time.”
“I’ve got an extra rifle,” Wade supplied cheerfully.
“You’re making it hard to say no.”
“Then let’s get you registered.”
Rebecca folded her arms over her chest. “Go ahead. Mac and I will stay here.”
Cole rose, lifted the sleeping child up and nestled him on his shoulder. “We can go together.”
Rebecca stood. She ached to rip the boy from Cole’s arms, but she kept calm. “Fine.”
Cole cocked an eyebrow. “Lead the way, Wade.”
Rebecca stayed close to Cole and Mac. She fretted that the boy would awaken and start to cry, but he slept on Cole’s shoulder as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Wade led them to the target area where the men had assembled with their rifles. Most of the townspeople had encircled the contestants.
Wade strode over to a collection of three rifles and chose two then returned. “Take your pick.”
Cole shrugged as if he were almost bored. “Either one will do.”
Wade chose a well-oiled Colt rifle. “It’s in good condition.”
Cole studied the wood stock and sleek barrel. “I can see that.”
Mac stirred and raised his head. He looked at his father, then at the rifle. “Bad guns.” He popped his thumb in his mouth.
Cole smiled. “You remember what I said about them?”
“Don’t touch,” Mac said.
“Good job, partner.”
Rebecca’s heart constricted as Cole smiled at Mac. Holding the boy seemed to come naturally to him and clearly the boy was content to be in his arms. Bess came up beside her and squeezed her arm, as if reading her thoughts.
Tears pooled in Rebecca’s eyes. She felt as if she were losing her son.
Wade pointed to a row of targets painted on brown paper and staked upright fifty yards away. “Each man gets six shots and his own target,” he said loud enough for all to hear. “The one with the most hits on the bull’s-eye wins ten silver dollars.”
A murmur of excitement passed through the crowd as the men nodded and lined up at the firing line. Seth Osborne was the first contestant. He fired and reloaded, missing the center but peppering the outer rim of the painted paper circle with six bullets.
The circle of men and women clapped. “Nice shot, Seth,” Stan shouted.
Seth sniffed and moved back. “You don’t own a saloon without learning a thing or two about guns.”
Four other men followed in succession each doing well, but none hitting the bull’s-eye more than once.
When it was Wade’s turn, he turned to Rebecca. “Kiss for luck.”
Before she could react, Bess stepped in front of her, grabbed Wade’s face in her hands and kissed his lips. The women giggled and the men grunted their approval.
Wade’s cheeks blazed with shock as he stood stock straight. “Mrs. Gunston, what was that?”
Bess chuckled. “Just my way of wishing you good luck.”
Wade cleared his throat. “Thank you. I think.” He stared at her several seconds longer as if seeing her for the first time, then turned to face the target. He paused only a second before firing his six shots. He retrieved his target and proudly showed that four bullets had hit the center. His other two shots were only inches from the bull’s-eye.
The crowd cheered and Wade grinned broadly. He held up his hand, waving to everyone.
Cole waited for the crowd to quiet before he handed Mac to Rebecca. His arm brushed hers. Rebecca’s breath suspended in her throat as she stared into his green eyes.
Cole glanced at Rebecca. “How about a kiss for luck?” he said in a low voice only she could hear.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Don’t ever dare me.”
He looked for an instant as if he would kiss her but instead removed his black Stetson and handed it to Mac. The little boy stared at the hat, his eyes wide. “Hang on to that for me, partner.”
Mac grinned. “Okay.”
Rebecca felt a hitch in her chest as her son stared at his father with wide-eyed admiration. She wondered again if she’d made the right decision to keep the two apart.
Cole turned to face the target and raised his rifle. The people around him still talked noisily about Wade’s excellent shots. Some had walked away, believing Wade had won the match.
Cole drew in a steadying breath then fired his six shots. A few people turned back as Wade sauntered to the target, which at first glance appeared to have been pierced by a large single hole dead center. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Wade shouted.
A couple of the men gathered to stare at the target, each murmuring their approval. All six of Cole’s shots had hit their mark dead center in the bull’s-eye.
Rebecca felt ridiculously proud of Cole and before she thought said, “Congratulations.”
He gave her a rakish grin. “Thank you.”
He had the power to evoke anger, fear and passion. He’d yanked her from her self-imposed exile. She knew then that she could lose herself to him. And if not for her fears, she would have.
The clang of the fire bell shattered her thoughts.
Stan Farthing ran down the street waving his arms. “Fire. Fire. The livery’s on fire!”
A sudden wave of sickness washed over Rebecca. Immediately, she looked for Dusty who was nowhere in sight.
A hush fell over the crowd. Every man, woman and child big enough to tote a bucket, stopped what they were doing and ran toward the blaze.
Rebecca grabbed Cole’s arm. “Dusty’s in the barn.”
Cole’s face tightened with worry. He stared at her only an instant before he reacted. Moving with the speed of a cougar in flight, he raced down the street toward the livery. He reached for the front doors, but the iron fittings were too hot to touch. He grabbed an ax that lay beside the barn and pulled the blade over his head, and plowed it into the lock. Wood cracked and splintered and the lock popped loose.
The door swung open. Black smoke poured out. The fire hissed.
Cole tossed the ax aside and disappeared into the blaze.
“Cole!” Rebecca shouted. She handed Mac to Bess then ran toward the blaze. The heat stopped her advance, leaving her unable to help.
Smoke streamed out of the hole as flames licked the roof of the livery barn. Rebecca heard loud voices, the frantic ring of the church bell, the thunder of footsteps behind her.
“Where’s my Jared?” Prudence shouted.
“Last I saw him,
he’d gone to the livery to play with Dusty,” Mrs. Applegate said.
Prudence ran toward the fire, but Rebecca grabbed her. “You can’t go in there.”
“My boy’s in there!”
“Cole’s gone after him. We have to wait.”
Seconds clicked by like hours as the men and women formed a human chain from the water pump to the fire. With buckets and pails in hand, they began the tedious task of passing bucket after bucket of water toward the fire.
They all knew if the fire wasn’t checked the entire town could be destroyed. White Stone had taken too many financial blows in the last two years to survive the devastation of fire.
Water sloshed, the heat of the fire grew, but no one spoke as they worked together to defeat the flames.
Rebecca’s breath caught in her throat as she waited for Cole, Dusty and Jared to emerge. She heard herself scream Cole’s name. The acrid smell of smoke stung her lungs as she struggled to breathe.
“Has anyone seen the boys?” she heard someone shout.
“No!” another answered.
Prudence wailed and she rocked back and forth, her arms wrapped around her. Rebecca stood by her side sure her own heart would explode in her chest.
Rebecca realized she’d been so selfish. It wasn’t right to deny Cole his son or White Stone the chance at prosperity. Guilt weighed heavily on her heart, making it difficult to breathe.
Then and there she made her bargain with God. If he spared Cole and Dusty, she’d tell Cole the truth about Mac.
“I swear, I’ll tell him everything,” she mumbled.
The fire cracked and snapped. The roof groaned. More seconds ticked by. They’d all die if they didn’t get out of there soon.
Suddenly, a hand and then another emerged through the smoke. Jared. Behind him emerged Dusty. Rebecca broke into a run, ignoring the shouts from behind her. Reaching into the smoke, she grabbed hold of the boys’ shirts and pulled with all her strength.
She dragged them away from the barn. Each collapsed into the dirt, their bodies covered with black, oily soot. Jared and Dusty coughed and sputtered, but they were fine.
“Where’s Cole?” Rebecca demanded.
“Don’t know,” Dusty wheezed. “Was right behind me.”
Prudence ran through the smoke and grabbed hold of her son. She hugged him close, stroking his head and whimpering his name.