His hands whistled and applauded, but a wicked glance from Chris silenced them. Briefly, she glanced at Chris, frowning, jerking the horse into obeying her lead and walking around the corral. He listened to her soft crooning, watched her pet the beast, then reward her by letting the mare race her steam out around the paddock.
She clicked her tongue and the horse slowed, prancing over to her with that I'm-doing-this-because-I-want-to look. She stared into black eyes, holding her bridle, then nodded, letting go and the horse moved away. Proudly, she scooped up her hat and dusted it off as she crossed to him.
He practically leapt on her.
"What the hell do you think you were doing! Bronc busting is dangerous business."
"I know."
"What in God's name possessed you to do that?"
"It looked like fun."
He smoldered with suppressed rage.
"I was right. It was."
"You disobeyed me, Tori."
Her eyes narrowed. "You'd better check your hormones, my lord. I obey me and that's it."
"Not with my animals."
"Oh, for Christ's sake, what the hell was I supposed to do? Jump off when you wanted. I would have been trampled."
"Exactly. Dammit, Tori, what if you fell off?"
"I had no intention of falling." She glanced back over her shoulder and waved to Joquin. "It was two women fighting it out." She looked back at him. He wasn't mollified.
"Did Joquin tell you how he lost half his fingers."
"Yes." Bronc busting.
Her fists were on her hips, her breathing still labored. And Chris thought she looked beautiful, even covered with dust and sweat. "And this didn't deter you?"
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"Obviously not."
All Chris could see was her flying off that horse and breaking her neck. "You are forbidden to ride a wild mustang."
Her icy look drove the air from his lungs, and he expected her to unleash that temper on him, but her expression suddenly melted, covered with blandness.
"They're your horses." She shrugged. "Fine." She brushed him aside. Ranch hands waved, congratulating her before she headed to the house. Lucky clapped wildly, scampering off the back porch and launching into her arms.
And the sight of the pair struck Chris with a mortal blow. How could she block out her emotions like a shuttered window?
"Did real good, Miss Toria."
"Thank you, sweetie."
Lucky leaned back in her arms, and Chris saw the boy frown, then brush at Victoria's cheeks, before she clutched the child tightly and carried him into the house.
It was a shower. Outside, near the back porch.
Except for the rustic look of it, it didn't appear any different than one she's used at summer camp when she was a kid. A tank sat perched on the roof, a pipe extending down into a frame. She'd inspected it earlier and knew that within the frame was a nozzle dotted with holes and a chain attached to a lever.
The stall was wood, the top and bottom two feet open to the world, the excess water draining through the slatted platform onto the ground. But Chris had constructed a wood walk toward the house and the bunk house so no one had to walk in the mud.
But the reason she was studying it now was that Chris was
using it.
And she had a perfect view of his long body from her position on the balcony above. She watched him scrub, smoothing lather over his hairless chest and wishing they were her hands, her mind drifted back to this afternoon in the study, a smile ringing her face.
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"Does it look like one from your century?"
She flinched, focusing. His arms propped on the edge of the stall, he stared up at her, wiping the water from his face. He looked good wet, she thought, then cleared her throat.
"Yes. What made you do it?"
"I grew up bathing in a river and never could get used to sitting in a tub of dirty water.'' He shivered dramatically and she couldn't help but smile. "The water is heated by the sun."
"I gathered that, but what happens in the winter?"
"I have to resort to a tub," he said plainly. "It's frozen over."
He snatched up a towel, drying himself. She watched the motion, aching to join him.
Don't say anything, she warned herself. Don't let him know how badly you hurt.
"Ever thought of making one in the house?"
He looked thoughtful, sanding his hair dry. "But the water—"
"A storage of water constantly heated, say with a larger stove." She didn't know exactly how to regulate hot and cold but he was smart enough to figure it out and could see the wheels in his brain turning. "Later, Einstien."
"Who?"
"A scientist, twentieth century."
His mouth quirked wryly. "This all must seem so primitive to you."
She let her gaze drift over the horizon, the sun setting in his beautiful valley. "It's a good kind of primitive."
Chris gazed up at her, enjoying the serene look on her lovely face as she admired his lands. He could feel her spirit drift into it, absorb it. She belonged here, damn it.
"Tori—" '
Her gaze snapped to his. "No. Becket goes back and I'm taking him."
"You're utterly certain this . . . wall will not let you back in, back here?''
"I can't hope." Her lip trembled. "It hurts too much," she whispered.
She left the rail, and Chris gripped the stall ledge for long moments, then sighed heavily, dropping his head between outstretched arms. He swallowed the knot in his throat, then slammed his fist into the wood, shattering a slat.
And in her room, Victoria buried her face in the pillow, smothering her cries.
"Victoria, come into my study. I need to speak with you."
Victoria. He hadn't called her that in weeks and his demanding tone spoke volumes. Bossy Injun struck a nerve.
"I'm helping Abigaie right now." She took another dish and rubbed it dry with the cloth.
He stopped, cocking a look over his shoulder. "That's her job. You aren't supposed to be working in my house."
"I have two hands and a brain, Christopher, and I've never been a freeloader in my life."
He turned fully. "Come here, Victoria."
"Go to hell, Chris."
Abigaie gasped, but Victoria didn't spare her a glance.
"I'll see you when I'm done."
"It be all right, miss."
"No, it isn't. The marshal seems to have forgotten his manners. Or that I hate being ordered." She set the dish on the stack and advanced. "Or that if he didn't bark a command like I was one of his ... flunkies, and simply asked, I'd talk with him. It might be wise for him to remember exactly why I came here." Great, just dig the knife deeper, she thought. "And it's about time I got back to my job."
Chris exploded, hurt and uncertainty making his voice sound like the low growl of a bear. ' 'Never. Do you hear me, woman? Never. If I have to cuff you to me, you're not going into town
without me." Her fists clenched in the folds of her skirt, her stare mutinous.
"Is that a threat, Marshal?"
"No, Victoria," he said with deadly calm. "That is an order."
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He turned on his heels and stormed to his study, the slamming door ringing through the house. Ranch hands who'd obviously heard the argument stood helplessly in the foyer, glancing between her and the closed door.
Victoria sighed, defeated and regretting her threats. It was just that she was so scared, about having to take Becket in, having to leave all these wonderful people, the comfort she found here. And she knew she had to. Duty came first.
But what about to yourself? a voice niggled. Where will you be when this is over?
Alone.
Totally, cruelly alone,
They were faking and not fooling anyone. Abigale and Ran-del kept se
nding them looks that clearly laid the blame at Chris's feet. His ranch hands glared at him through her serenades, for they were soft and sad, yet if he came near her, she made excuses—brisk, emotionless excuses. And he realized how quickly she turned back into the hunter, leaving her emotions tucked where he couldn't find them. But despite that he'd told her he couldn't live with this torment, he wasn't ready to give up. He had a feeling too many people gave up on Victoria before, brushing her feelings aside as if they were meaningless, herself included, and he'd no intention of joining the fold.
He loved her too much.
He stood in the entrance of the dining room, watching her. She and Lucky sat close together, hovering over a sheet of paper and the little boy's tongue stuck out and lined the route of his lips as he made his mark. She whispered secretly to him and he smiled proudly, in went the tongue and he tried again.
"Victoria?"
"Yes." She didn't look up, knew she'd collapse if she did. "Keep practicing," she urged Lucky. "Two more, then we're done for tonight."
"Look at me."
She didn't.
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"Please."
She lifted her gaze. "I'm sorry."
She nodded once, then turned her attention to the boy. Chris didn't think she'd accepted it.
"Very good!" she praised the child, then re-examined his work and gave him a kiss. Lucky stared up at her, then let his gaze slide to Chris. His little face wrinkled in a frown and he scooted back from the table and left, but not before he stopped beside Chris, motioning for him to bend down. "Don't make her go away."
Chris's heart clenched at the worried plea.' 'I'm trying, son." "But she sad at you." "I know." "You yell, why?" "Cause I'm afraid."
Lucky's eyes grew round as coins. "You?" Chris nodded, cast a quick glance at Victoria, who was looking over the papers, then back to the child. He squatted down to eye level and gripped the boy's shoulders. "See, I don't want her to leave either, but she might. And I'm not sure how to stop it."
He looked so scholarly thoughtful, Chris smiled. "Kiss her lots. She likes that." "Think so?"
He nodded vigorously, then sent Chris a warning look. ' 'But don't stick your pecker 'tween her legs and move it 'round." "Jesus!" Chris gasped. "Where did you hear that?" "Saw saloon girls. They don't like peckers much. Hurts 'em cause they's moanin' and screamin' and—"
When he started making too authentic sounds, Chris clamped a hand over Lucky's mouth. "I don't ever want you to discuss that with anyone," he said darkly. "Except me. Later. Much later. Like when you're about eighteen. Understand?" Gagged, Lucky nodded. "Go to bed, now." Again the nod.
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Chris removed his hand and Lucky launched into his arms. His soft whisper stole into Chris's heart.
"I happy here, Marshal."
Chris closed his eyes, giving the boy a squeeze. "I'm glad, Lucky, really glad."
Lucky wiggled out of his arms, raced back to the table to kiss Victoria, then ran out of the room. Seconds later, a door closed.
Except for the sound of conversation coming from the porch, the house was silent.
He tossed a stack of papers on the table and they scattered toward her. She didn't move, frozen with her gaze on Lucky's school work.
Chris willed her to look up. Finally, she did.
"I love you, Tori."
She seemed to crumble before his eyes.
"Don't do this to me."
He strode close and pulled her from the chair. "I love you." She kept her head bowed and he tried to look under it. "I didn't mean to hurt you, but, Jesus, it tears me up when you remind me that this is all temporary to you."
She hadn't been thinking that way for a long time now. "I wish it wasn't."
"It doesn't have to be."
Her lips pressed to a flat line.
"Dead or alive, Becket goes back." His voice was flat, tired.
She nodded, the stone in her throat making it impossible to answer.
"Then maybe I'll just kill him."
She looked up at him, thick tears streaming down her cheeks. He felt each one as if they were drops of his own blood.
"All I have to do is confront him with my suspicions, let him make his move, and shoot him. If he were gone, you wouldn't have reason to leave."
"You won't. I know you, Chris. There's no justice in that."
He scoffed. "This isn't your century, Tori. And I'm the law here."
"I know what you're trying to do. Will you sacrifice your honor for me, Chris? Will you really break the law for your own selfish reasons?"
"When I have to fight a murderer for the right to your love, yes. But if you really don't want to make a life with me . .." His expression was infinitely sad, his voice faultering. "I love you enough to let you go."
He backed away, dropping his hands. He left her without a sound and she sagged into a chair, cradling her head in her hands.
It wasn't fair.
"Don't make me choose."
It wasn't a decision she could make, not after all this time, all she'd done to get Becket. Her gaze strayed to the papers he'd tossed. Reports, scrawled by his deputies and a quick glance told her they'd monitored Becket's every move as well as she had.
Was this a useless fantasy? Believing she could do her job and love at the same time? This is what happened to her marriage, so caught in it she lost her husband's love and her daughter as well.
Are you willing to make the same mistake twice?
Be careful, her conscience warned. There is no second chance.
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Chapter Thirty'Three
Chris gripped the railing and watched her ride out in the twilight of the night.
/ love you enough to let you go.
And never thought he'd have to put his love to the test, yet he stood on his porch, watching her leave him. And her direction was unmistakable. The portal of time
Fool!
You forced her to choose and now look. See what your need and pride has done?
But she loves me, I know she does. I see it in her eyes.
And if you are wrong?
Then I have gambled on her love and lost.
But they had no life together if he forced her to stay
No life. '
Victoria stared at the cave, swiping the damp hair from her forehead with the back of her hand. It was still there, still penetrable, wobbling like an invisible curtain of liquid rock. She didn't dare move closer, afraid it would steal her back
when she was struggling under the burden of indecision. All night she'd tried to imagine herself going through, never seeing Chris or Lucky again, the ranch hands or Abigale and Randel. Never knowing Jenna as the friend she knew she could be. Victoria tried desperately for the realistic view that kept her alive and one step ahead of the perp for the past years, and in it she found clarity.
The price was too big.
Christopher.
And what waited for her on the other side?
A swift trial, an execution, and then nothing.
justice would be served, and you will be forgotten and alone.
Stabbing pain made her wince and gulp back tears.
Just the thought of walking through this gorge of earth and its mysteries terrified her. She didn't belong there anymore.
And she didn't really have to come here to know that. From the first moment in Chris's arms she was lost, her heart opening for his gentle smiles and teasing and patient persistence. Her feelings couldn't be tucked neatly away with the pain anymore. Not for duty's sake. For the pain of the past was gone and the only hurt she felt was her own making.
She'd never had to choose. Falling in love with Chris took that away.
She was just too stubborn, and too used to fighting her emotions to recognize that her vengeance for Becket was just a barrier she grasped for the wrong reasons.
An
d she'd come here to say good-bye. To Trisha, Kevin, Cole and the ugliness she'd wallowed in and hid inside. Her gaze lifted to the night sky, then she sagged back against the thick muscled horse hovering like a protector. He nudged her impatiently.
"Yeah, I know." She patted his sleek neck. "Let's go home, Caesar. "v
Caesar nickered and stomped in agreement as she swung up onto his broad back. She stared once more at the short stout cavern and murmured a good-bye, then reined around. She didn't worry over injuring the horse in the darkness, for without
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so much as a guiding tap, the stead picked his way over the terrain lit by the silver moon.
She was going home.
And she prayed Chris would forgive her.
Victoria bedded down Caesar with sweet fresh hay and a handful of sugar cubes since she was out of beer, then headed to the back of the house. It was incredibly quiet and when she slipped inside, she went directly to Lucky's room.
She found the child curled on his side and tucked beneath soft coverlets. When she bent to brush a kiss to the top of his head, he reached out and took her hand, squeezing it before opening his eyes. His sleepy smile lit the darkness.
"Hi, sweetie."
"You stay, huh?"
He was too insightful for his age.
"Yes, honey, I'm staying." He leaned up and hugged her tightly.
"I knew you loved us," he whispered, patting her somberly, and she squeezed her eyes shut. How could she ever have thought of leaving them?
Then with the innocence of a child, he laid back and snuggled into his bed, content with her assurance.
Casting one last look at him, she softly closed the door and went to search out Chris. Her heart picked up its pace as she examined room after room on the first floor. Nothing and she frowned at the quiet when it was scarcely ten o'clock. A light shone from beneath Abigale's door as she tiptoed past and she assumed Chris was in his bedroom. She started toward it and paused, looked down at herself and grimaced' at her dirty clothes. She veered into the bath room quietly, stripped and washed before sneaking to her room with only a towel around her.
Slipping on a robe, she belted it as she crossed to the balcony door, flinging them open. A cool gust of summer air hit her and she inhaled the scents of 1872 Colorado. No smog, no
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