Hell for Leather

by Beth Williamson

  Antonio shook his head. “You can deny what you like, but I know what I see, and I know what a man looks like who has known the passion of a woman.”

  Cade hoped like hell his hot cheeks didn’t mean he was blushing like an idiot. “I don’t plan on hurting her.”

  “I accept your word as a friend.” Antonio clapped him on the back.

  Unable to answer, Cade just nodded, grateful the night air hid the confusion and pain in his eyes.

  On the way back to Livingston Valley, Cade had many conversations with himself, none of which were pleasant. He was becoming too involved with people in Eustace, and he should not have given in to his passion for Sabrina. She didn’t deserve a broken man like him, and he didn’t need a woman in his life, at least not one he hadn’t paid for.

  By the time he made it home, exhaustion had thrown its blanket over him, and he had a hard time resisting its allure. He rode up to his cabin, grateful for the light of the moon illuminating his path. Next to the door was a bucket of water and some turnips.

  Cade shook his head at the “ghost” who’d been haunting him, absurdly grateful he could tie off the damn horse next to the cabin and not worry about getting him to the lean-to.

  He slid off the saddle like a puddle of mud and barely remembered tying off the reins to the door handle. Losing consciousness quickly, Cade stumbled inside and onto the bed, where darkness finally claimed him.

  ———

  Sabrina sat on the window seat staring up at the moon, wondering if she’d done the right thing. Ellen would no doubt completely disapprove, as would Clara and many others. They didn’t matter though, only her own opinion mattered, and she couldn’t make up her mind.

  The experience with Cade had been the most intense, sensual banquet she’d ever had in her life. Sweet heavens, she could still feel his hands on her body and his unique scent in her nose. He was so different from anyone she’d ever known. The man seemed to exist one second at a time, never thinking about anything other than the moment. Sabrina secretly thought it was because if he thought too much, he might feel something, and that way lay a dark path.

  It was obvious he struggled with inner demons, real or imagined, and Sabrina respected his right to privacy. She really wanted to ask him what had happened to make him so incredibly sad that he’d give up on life altogether, on happiness, on anything. Seeing him with Antonio through the window gave her a peek into another side of him.

  She wanted more, stupid woman that she was. Here was this stranger, a man who wouldn’t, or couldn’t, care about her, and she was obsessed with him. It had started before they became intimate, really from the first moment she’d seen him step into the store. Ellen was right, there was a dark cloud around him, but Sabrina wanted to blow the darkness away.

  She’d risk a lot to even try. Cade could tell her to go to hell, or worse yet, shatter her heart. None of that seemed important though because taking a chance with him was the right thing to do. Eric had always accused her of bringing in strays, of trying to fix everything around her, but she couldn’t help it. Cade was damaged and Sabrina had a feeling she was the potion to make him whole.

  ———

  The morning sunshine pricked at Cade’s eyes. He lay there wondering what day it was, where he was and how the hell he got there. The previous day’s events blossomed in his mind and he remembered everything.

  “Shit.”

  It had started simply enough with wood for a corral, and everything had spiraled out of control after that. Complete, utter chaos, inside and out.

  He rose with a groan, his body protesting each move he made. After lighting a fire in the stove, he heated water to wash. Lye soap and lukewarm water woke him up in a hurry. The bite of cold reminded him that winter was just a breath away from arriving.

  The smell of coffee bubbling soon filled the cabin and Cade contented himself with scorching hot cups of it accompanied by beef jerky that could’ve substituted for shoe leather or reins.

  He stopped the coffee cup halfway to his mouth, remembering way too late that he’d left his horse outside the front door, still saddled, with only turnips and a bucket of water. No cowboy left his horse like that, ever. Although Cade tried not to like the horse, and the stupid creature made it easy, he was still responsible for keeping it safe, and he’d failed miserably.

  Cade yanked on his boots and flung open the door. The horse was gone, leaving behind a bucket of frozen water and half-chewed turnips.

  “Son of a bitch.” He went back inside for his jacket, not at all happy about searching for the damn horse in the frosty morning.

  When he rounded the corner of the cabin, he spotted the bay nicely tucked into the lean-to, unsaddled and contentedly munching on hay. Cade wasn’t used to folks being kind to him for any reason, much less no reason at all.

  His mysterious ghost must have taken care of the chores he was responsible for, and it irked him at the same time it touched him. Cade didn’t want to be beholden to anyone, much less some white-haired ghost. However, he couldn’t deny that he now owed the stranger for more than vegetables. The horse could have taken sick or even died in the cold night.

  With a sigh worthy of any thespian, Cade cupped his hands around his mouth. “Thank you.”

  No response was forthcoming from the woods, not that he expected any. The ghost did what he pleased, when he pleased and Cade didn’t want to dance to that particular tune anymore.

  After inspecting the horse and finding no fault with the care of it—the damn fool had even curried it—Cade went back to the house grumbling to himself. There on the front step was a pile of fresh turnips. He cursed loudly, then did it again. How did this unknown entity keep getting the best of him? He was ten, maybe fifteen feet away and didn’t even hear a blade of grass move, much less a person.

  “Fine, I’ll eat the damn turnips.” He scooped them up and stomped inside, his disposition not improved by the early morning visit.

  With some potatoes and beef jerky, Cade cut up the turnips to make a soup. He was certain it would taste terrifically awful, but figured he’d at least try to cook something for himself. The one skill—okay there was more than one but this was the most important—he hadn’t learned in his life was how to cook. Living out of bordellos, hotels and saloons gave him a taste for other people’s cooking, and the convenience of food already prepared was perfect for a man who drifted through life.

  While the soup bubbled away on the stove, Cade sharpened his knife, the familiar task soothing his frazzled nerves. He’d come to New Mexico to find peace, a place to live as an unknown, and to escape. Unfortunately so far he’d not found any of those things, in fact, it had been the complete opposite.

  A glimpse of a white face in the window made him almost drop the sharpening stone on his lap. He was being watched and that not only bothered the hell out of him, it made Cade angry. He’d told the stranger more than once to leave him be, yet the bastard refused to listen. Jeremiah’s ghost was going to be led into a trap.

  After the soup was done, Cade dipped a bowl into the pot, absurdly pleased by the fact it didn’t burn or smell terrible. In fact, it smelled pretty damn good. He sat at the table with his soup and hesitantly brought a spoonful to his mouth, hoping he was still being watched.

  The saltiness of the meat mixed with the potatoes and turnips made for a surprisingly good first meal on his own. Cade gobbled up a bowl before remembering what he was supposed to be doing—trapping his mysterious benefactor. After a second bowl of soup was in his stomach, he was ready to lay the trap.

  As casually as possible, he put a bowl of soup with a spoon on the front step, then addressed the woods beyond the cabin.

  “Okay, the turnips were good. I made some damn soup so you might as well have some since you contributed to it.”

  Cade shut the door, then with grim determination, squatted next to the door as quiet as death. It could have been five minutes or two hours until he heard the spoon on the tin bowl outside.
<
br />   With no small amount of glee, he flung the door open.

  “Gotcha, you little shit.”

  Crouched on the front step, Cade was speechless to find not a woman but a young girl, probably thirteen or fourteen. Shock rendered him paralyzed while she ran like the wind into the woods. What the hell was he going to do with a young female ghost?

  The spilled soup on the ground reminded him that he’d not only scared her, but he’d spoiled the dinner she helped to provide.

  Son of a bitch. Could he never do anything right?

  ———

  “I know what you did.”

  Sabrina glanced up from sorting the mail to find Clara scowling at her.

  “Good afternoon to you too.” She went back to the envelopes, certain she was not going to like what her diminutive friend had to say.

  “Don’t do that, Sabrina. I need to talk to you about what I saw.” Clara walked around behind the counter, glancing around her to make sure no one was listening.

  For certain, Sabrina did not want to get a tongue-lashing, but that was likely what was coming.

  “I saw that man come in here with you, the sign read closed on the door for at least thirty minutes. Thirty minutes, Sabrina! What were you thinking? Did you even think at all?”

  Sabrina set the mail down and took a deep breath, angry with herself for caring what others thought and annoyed with Clara for chastising her.

  “First of all, I love you like a sister. However, that does not mean you can judge me or my actions. I am a grown woman, a widow with nothing in her life but a store and a future with no husband or children. If I choose to be with a man, it’s my business.” She started shaking as the words tumbled out, unsure if she was about to lose a friend or gain a slap.

  Clara opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and shook her head. After a moment, she sighed. “That stranger is not a good man, and I’m worried about you.”

  Sabrina’s anger deflated as quickly as it had come. “And I love you for being worried, but I think you’re wrong. Cade is a good man who’s had a hard life. I can respect that and not judge him for it.”

  She waited for Clara to agree or disagree, but she just patted Sabrina’s hand with her small one. “Be careful. I’m not the only one who noticed the closed sign.”

  With that, Clara walked out of the store, leaving Sabrina with a fluttery stomach and a sense of dread. She knew what her friend had said without really saying it. Sam must know, which would explain the missed Sunday visit. Doubt jumped on her back along with a bit of guilt. Had she destroyed her relationships in town by simply being with a man? That was a crazy thought, but Eustace was such a small town, it was possible.

  She finished sorting the mail and set to work tallying the receipts from the morning. It had been quite busy with lots of folks starting to stock up on supplies for the coming winter. Accounting was her least favorite chore, but it helped her forget about Clara’s disappointment and her own need to see Cade again. It simmered within her with a firm hold.

  “I hate you.”

  Sabrina looked over to find Melissa Fuller at the entrance to the store, her face flushed and fists clenched.

  “Melissa, what’s the—?”

  “You stole my man right out from under my nose. I know what you did, you…you whore.” Melissa swiped tears from her cheeks with angry slashes of her balled-up fists. “It wasn’t enough that you had my father dancing to your music, you had to take my future husband too.”

  Sabrina was absolutely stunned, not only by the girl’s venom but by her accusations too. Sam had been right, Melissa was weaving fantasies around Cade, and Sabrina’s reality had destroyed them.

  “Melissa, I think you might be confused about a few things. Do you want to come in and talk?” Sabrina wasn’t about to admit to a fourteen-year-old girl that she’d had sex with a stranger in the back office of the store. It was not something any girl should aspire to do, but circumstances were much different for a widow and a woman than for an impressionable young lady.

  “I don’t ever want to talk to you again. I’m going to tell everyone what you did so no one will talk to you again either.” Melissa slammed the door so hard, the bell almost fell off the top.

  Sabrina threw her pencil at the floor, frustrated with everyone and everything. She stomped over to the stairs and called up to her sister. “I have to go out for a while, Ellen. You need to mind the store.”

  Amidst Ellen’s protests, Sabrina took her wool coat and headed outside for a long walk. Perhaps the crisp air would help clear her thoughts and heal the hurts.

  Chapter Six

  It had been more than a week since he’d seen Sabrina, and Cade had had no idea how boring life was going to be in a secluded valley. Another Sunday morning dawned sunny and cold, bringing another day of complete and utter nothingness. He’d built the corral for the horse, taken walks and rides, hell he’d even cleaned the cabin somewhat. Now he had nothing to do but nothing.

  Actually it was worse than nothing, he had too much time to think. It was a dangerous activity for Cade. Memories came and went and he battled each one. It hadn’t occurred to him that he needed something to keep his hands busy so his mind didn’t take over.

  It seemed like such a good idea to hide away in a valley, but that was before he’d met the Malloys and the only friend he’d ever had, Brett. They’d shown him exactly what it meant to be loved unconditionally, to be accepted no matter what, and to have a family, a real family, not a dozen two-bit whores pretending to be motherly.

  They’d spoiled him, that family from Wyoming, and damn them for doing it. Cade wanted to turn back time to Cheyenne where he’d been hired to kill Brett’s brother Trevor and his lady, Adelaide. Cade had made the choice to walk away from the money, the life of a gunslinger, and start again. Brett had given him that chance on a run-down ranch, and until Cade’s past had caught up with his present, it had been the best time of his life.

  God knows it was more than Cade had ever expected, and now he was stuck with the longing for what he couldn’t have.

  He’d checked the cabin inside and out, he’d read Shakespeare two dozen times already and could recite the book from memory. Unfortunately there were no other books, no paper to write on, and he’d only bought enough wood to build the damn corral. Cade was slowly losing his mind and he had to do something to stop it.

  He didn’t know what though. His mysterious young ghost hadn’t shown up since the incident with the soup. He’d scoured the woods for any sign of her, but hadn’t found even a stray branch, not that he’d know what to look for. Outdoors wasn’t something he was familiar with. Oh, he could start a fire and maybe catch a rabbit, but he was no mountain man, nor a tracker.

  So until his little ghost showed herself, he was stuck waiting, alone. Right about then, he would’ve welcomed her, hell, he would’ve welcomed anybody.

  He started talking to himself that morning.

  Soon he started answering back.

  Cade walked to the nearby creek to wash his clothes, absurdly grateful he had laundry to do. The beauty of the valley wasn’t lost on him. The bare trees sat amongst their green brethren, waiting for spring to come again and bring them to life.

  “Soon you’ll be writing poetry.” Cade snorted at himself. “Then I’ll take to the stage and sing.”

  “And here I was afraid you were lonely. Do you want me to come back later?” Antonio appeared in the morning sunshine on a beautiful black horse.

  “Hell no. You’re not a figment of my imaginations, are you?” Cade was never so happy to see another human being in his life.

  “I don’t think so.” Antonio dismounted and looked around. “I’ve never been up here before. It’s pretty nice.”

  “Yeah, if you want to die of boredom. Tell me you brought a deck of cards.” Cade picked up his soggy laundry and threw it on a rock to be done later.

  “Better than that. I brought cards and something to quench your thirst.” Antonio held up a
full bottle of whiskey.

  Cade’s stomach cramped at the sight of his nemesis, but what could he do? He wasn’t about to send Antonio away. He’d been desperate for company, for anything to distract him from his self-induced misery.

  Now it appeared his misery would be compounded by the temptation he dared not give into. They walked back to Cade’s cabin side by side without talking. Antonio seemed to absorb the beauty of the valley and Cade let him. He was busy trying to figure out how to avoid drinking any booze.

  He started shaking the closer they got to the cabin. Cade put his hands in his pockets to hide his trembling foolishness. Jesus, he’d turned into a woman. Darkness came with whiskey, and Cade had avoided it for more than two months. He didn’t want to fall back into the pit, into the blackness that had claimed days of his life, and worse, to the amber liquid that kept an iron claw stuck in his gut and controlled his actions, bringing him to his knees as no one and nothing ever had.

  Cade was saved by the unlikeliest person—his ghost of the woods. There on the steps was a rabbit waiting to be skinned for dinner and of course, a handful of turnips.

  “Did you leave your dinner to go wash your drawers?” Antonio laughed.

  “No, I didn’t. That’s from the ghost of Livingston Valley.”

  Antonio whipped his head around and looked at Cade with disbelief. “The ghost? You mean Jeremiah’s ghost? I didn’t think it was real.”

  “Oh she’s real all right.” Cade picked up the rabbit by the ears.

  “She? The ghost is a mujer?” Antonio’s mouth dropped open.

  “Not quite a woman. A young girl, no older than fourteen if that.” Cade set the rabbit carcass on a rock and started skinning it. “She’s a slippery little thing too, and a bit of a smartass.”

  Antonio peered at the woods. “Is she watching us now?”

  “No doubt. She probably knows when I take a piss.” Cade wrinkled his nose at the slimy feel of the raw meat. He threw the skin on the ground and walked toward the cabin, Antonio still fascinated by the woods. “Be careful, she likes to throw turnips too.”