The Widow's Protector

by Rachel Lee

  He reached the turn for the Chastain place and saw a house in the distance, almost concealed in a dip. And no place to hide a car.

  Damn. He kept going another mile, and wonder of wonders he found a huge stand of trees, leafing out with spring leaves. He was able to jockey the car into a place where he couldn’t be seen from the road.

  Then he pulled out what he needed from the trunk—binoculars, that big old hunting knife he’d shoplifted so it couldn’t be traced to him, some gloves and a jacket. A couple of water bottles, too, and he reminded himself to carry them out with him.

  Leave no trace. He hadn’t been in the military for long before they’d tossed him, but he’d learned enough about surreptitious approaches and observation. Too bad they’d thought he’d enjoyed the prospect of being a sniper too much. He’d have thought they’d have welcomed that. Apparently not.

  He still wasn’t sure what exactly he’d done wrong, but he’d never forgotten the look on the face of the two officers who’d given him the word and had hustled him through medical discharge at light speed.

  He shrugged mentally. It didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was getting Ryder.

  Certain he was equipped for a clean kill that would leave no trace, he started hiking back to the Chastain place.

  And what he saw there through his binoculars only made him madder. Ryder was hugging that woman right on her front porch in plain sight.

  Oh, yeah, he was going to enjoy ridding the world of that guy.

  * * *

  The roof had been finished two days ago, and Ryder was still hanging around. He was cutting up the felled trees into cord wood for her stove and stacking it neatly out back. He puttered with other things, too, and Marti began to think he was reluctant to resume his journey.

  But now he was going to town to get some things he said he needed, and he didn’t invite her along. At some deep level that bothered her, but then he hugged her and told her he wouldn’t tarry. He also told her not to cook because he was going to bring home a meal.

  He surprised her by hugging her before he left. For the past couple of days he had avoided touching her, and she suspected he was doing so because of the unmistakable sexual tension that kept growing between them.

  Of course he didn’t want to do something that might make him feel worse about Brandy in some way. In fact, were Marti to be honest, she had to admit she was beginning to resent Brandy. That woman had caused a nice man a whole lot of pain, the kind of pain that made him pull back from another woman.

  It was as if Ryder had developed a phobia almost like the one she had over thunderstorms…except he had a lot more cause for it.

  She watched him drive away, feeling almost abandoned, then stood looking out over the prairie to the blue-tinged mountains to the west. Nothing had changed, she argued to herself. Nothing at all. She’d been fine before Ryder, and she’d be fine after Ryder.

  But she sure wished he’d get over his hangup before he left because she was growing increasingly hungry for his absent touches. Increasingly eager to learn the sexual lessons he might be able to teach her. He was steadily restoring a piece of her womanhood that Jeff had taken away, and she wanted it back. Even if it was just a one-night stand.

  But she couldn’t find the words to express it, and the last time she had tried, Ryder had said she had just handed him a grenade. That, she thought, had been the beginning of his withdrawal. That and when she’d caused him to storm out into the rain.

  Sometimes a guy could be just too nice, she thought with something between despair and amazement.

  A wind blew up, causing her to feel chilled. As she turned to go back inside, though, she felt something that unnerved her even more. The back of her neck prickled with the sense that someone was watching her.

  Rubbing her arms to ward off the chill, she turned to look back out over the fields and couldn’t see a soul.

  Must be an animal, she decided, then went inside to keep herself busy until Ryder returned.

  * * *

  Ryder hadn’t wanted to take Marti with him because he hadn’t wanted to listen to a bunch of objections. He had plans, and he knew she’d be embarrassed, reluctant and stubborn. He was starting to get the measure of her.

  Plus, he wanted her. He wanted her like mad, until it dominated nearly every waking thought he had. He was long past wondering if it was okay to want a pregnant woman and deep into wondering if he was still too messed up to even think of such a thing.

  But he was thinking about it, and he desperately needed a couple of hours away to try to clear his head and find some sort of path through a confusion Marti was only increasing.

  Not that she meant to. She kept trying to tell him he was a good guy who was blaming himself too much, and he was beginning to think she was right.

  So why all the confusion? Misplaced loyalty to Brandy? A desire to punish himself? Fear of losing control again by caring too much?

  He needed a shrink.

  Instead he had only himself and a few hours to try to think through exactly what he really wanted and whether it would be good for Marti—or for him.

  Such a question shouldn’t seem so complicated.

  He reached town and started shopping. He had tucked those two samples in his breast pocket and bought paint and wallpaper for the nursery, along with rollers, brushes and all the other things he’d need that he hadn’t found around the place.

  He thought about the aging linoleum that covered wood floors throughout the house. That always offended him, to cover good wood with that stuff, but he guessed there’d been a point where someone had thought it would be easier to care for. Or maybe they’d succumbed to a trend.

  But he left that for another time. Right now he just wanted to brighten the place and give Marti a piece of her dream. Everyone deserved a dream. Like him and going back to cabinet making.

  At Freitag’s Mercantile, he found a narrow selection but enough for what he wanted. A wooden crib he could paint to match the room if she liked. Bedding that looked good with the paint and wallpaper samples.

  He was a completely out of his depth but found a middle-aged clerk who helped him through rows of baby clothes and accessories. The woman assured him that with a baby you could never have too much. He wondered if that was true or just a sales gimmick but decided to rely on the woman’s kind nature.

  He added a stack of receiving blankets, a real changing table, some cute infant outfits, and then called a halt.

  He had a feeling he was going to face some wrath over this, but in the end he trusted that Marti’s eyes were going to sparkle with delight and her dream would grow.

  He stopped by Maude’s to pick up a couple of her steak sandwiches, then headed back realizing that he hadn’t sorted his head out one bit.

  All he knew was he wanted to see Marti’s eyes sparkle. Maybe that was the only answer right there.

  When he set out for Ben’s, he just needed to know that he’d left things better in his wake. They wouldn’t be perfect, much as he wished he could make it so, but at least they’d be better.

  He’d feel less helpless, even if he couldn’t be in control.

  As long as Marti didn’t make him bring everything back, anyway.

  * * *

  When Marti heard her truck coming up the rutted drive, she jumped up and went to the door. Where once she’d loved being alone when Jeff went out for a few hours, now she found she hated it. Because Ryder wasn’t there.

  No amount of argument from her brain could change that, either, because she’d spent the past few hours arguing with herself.

  She was walking into deep waters and couldn’t seem to turn back. Her heart ached with anticipatory loss even as it leaped at Ryder’s return.

  Linda Marie seemed to be just as glad because she kicked a few times, hard enough in
sensitive enough places to make Marti wince briefly.

  “Settle down, girl,” she told both herself and the baby. Neither of them were listening.

  She stood on the porch as Ryder climbed out of the truck cab with a large paper bag.

  “Lunch,” he said cheerfully.

  As he drew closer, she saw a smile in his eyes and felt pleasure warm her. He smiled so rarely, and it was an expression that delighted her when it made a rare appearance. She smiled back and saw his face brighten even more.

  She liked it even better when he gave her a quick hug with one arm after they went inside to eat.

  The foam containers had kept the sandwiches warm, and although one of them was more than she could eat, she figured Ryder would consume her other half. He worked hard and had a very healthy appetite. A healthy enough appetite that he even managed to make her simplest dinner offerings seem like gourmet meals.

  “How was your trip to town?” she asked.

  “You been in the Mercantile much?”

  “Rarely. Just a few times.”

  “Well, there’s this one clerk. Sweet lady. She helped me a whole lot. That’s rare these days.”

  “I guess it is to judge by what I experienced before I moved out here. I can remember hunting for help and then getting very little of it.” She wondered why he’d even gone there and why he had needed help, but she swallowed the questions. Lately it had seemed to her she might be talking too much and asking too many question. She had to learn to let him volunteer what he wanted to share with her. Not that she was going to get much of a chance to practice.

  “Exactly. The only place I didn’t have a problem was at the lumberyard. Anyway, they’re working on the telephone and electric poles on the way out here. Maybe you’ll have power and phone back soon.”

  “Did you call Ben?”

  “I already told him it was going to be a couple of weeks, that I wasn’t going to leave you in a lurch. He doesn’t need to hear it again. And I already know he blames me.”

  “That’s not right!”

  “Maybe not. But maybe having him dump his anger all over me will do some good.”

  “How could that possibly do any good?”

  His smile was crooked. “Maybe I need to fight back with something other than my own head.”

  She pondered that as she chewed another bite of her sandwich. “That might work,” she said finally. “Arguing with ourselves isn’t the same as arguing with someone else. Things sound different then.”

  “Especially if you hear stupidity pouring out of your own mouth.”

  She laughed quietly. “Especially then. But sometimes you can also hear the sense you’re making.”

  “Sound like you’ve had some experience.”

  She paused, then just decided to admit it. “I argued with myself an awful lot about divorcing Jeff. Then I’d remember those marriage vows and I couldn’t bring myself to break them.”

  “Sometimes there’s good reason.”

  “Obviously. I wouldn’t judge anyone else’s situation. I just know where I got hung up every time. I think you understand, Ryder, because you didn’t leave Marti, and I’m sure nobody would have blamed you if you had.”

  The silence seemed to last forever before he answered. “That played into it. But it wasn’t all of it. I still loved her. She never mistreated me. So I never lost hope. I get the feeling it was a whole lot different for you.”

  “Plenty of verbal abuse,” she admitted. “Enough to kill my feelings for him finally.”

  “That’s a huge point of difference,” he said quietly. “Huge. Mistreatment isn’t included in the vows.”

  That caught her up short. “No, I guess it isn’t. But I kept on thinking of it as part of his illness.”

  “We all have our blind spots. I’m certainly beginning to see some of mine.”

  He wrapped up the remains of their sandwiches for later, then smiled. “Ready for your baby shower?”

  Surprise made her heart slam. “My what?”

  “Come out to the truck.”

  Filled with nervous excitement, she followed him, and when he started to pull the tarp off the truck bed, she burst into tears.

  “Aw, heck,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  “These are happy tears, Ryder. I mean…why? Why did you do all this? And it must have burned a hole in your bank account… Oh, you shouldn’t have!” She hiccupped as more tears started to run down her cheeks.

  He turned and wiped them gently away with his thumb. “I was afraid you’d get mad.”

  “How could I get mad at so much generosity? But the expense!”

  “Trust me, expenses aren’t high on my agenda. I just sold a profitable business.”

  She stared at the crib box, the paint, the packages, then turned toward him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Thank you. Oh, thank you.”

  “I hope you like it all,” he said a bit gruffly as he hugged her back. “The nice lady at Freitag’s said you could never have enough for a new baby, so I don’t know if I did enough or went overboard. But if you don’t like something, I can take it back.”

  “I’m sure I’ll love it all,” she answered somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “How could I not?”

  He insisted she get comfortable in the living room until he had carried everything upstairs, then she could open packages.

  Sitting in her chair she watched him walk by and wondered what she had ever done to deserve the arrival of an angel in her life. Because he was an angel, the kind who tried to make things better, the kind who did what he felt needed doing. How many people were so blessed?

  Just for a little while, she reminded herself. Just for a short time. Soon he’d head out and she’d be alone again.

  But damn it, she thought with a touch of bravado, that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy him while he was here. She had long since learned everything in life cost something, and when Ryder moved on the price was going to be high emotionally. But she’d lived through a lot, if there was one thing she knew for certain, she was a survivor. She would make it.

  In the meantime, she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. That would be rude and ungracious.

  “Ready?” he called as he passed through with a hefty bag. “This is it.”

  Five minutes later she was sitting on a chair in the nursery and crying and laughing all at once. A beautiful crib still in its box. A changing table to be assembled. The generosity of it took her breath away. But then she started pulling things out of bags and her breath caught with pleasure and excitement.

  With eyes and hands she devoured the soft pretty things, the impossibly tiny things, the stack of cute receiving blankets. Things she had actually looked at a couple of times and then walked away from. It was almost as if he’d figured out her taste just from a paint chip and wallpaper sample.

  “Oh, Ryder,” she said, again and again. “Oh, Ryder, thank you.”

  He was leaning against the wall with his arms folded, looking pretty pleased with himself, and she liked that. He should feel that way more often.

  “I’m just…overwhelmed,” she whispered finally. “How can I ever thank you?”

  “By enjoying it. Because I’m going to enjoy knowing you’re enjoying it.”

  She looked at him with misty eyes. “It’s so much!”

  “I’m almost positive that clerk thought it was nowhere near enough. You’re not mad at me?”

  “How could I be?” She rose, letting the receiving blankets tumble onto one of the bags, and hurried toward him. Her foot caught on something and she started to fall.

  But powerful arms caught her and saved her, and then she was wrapped in strength.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he said.

  Before she c
ould say anything, their eyes locked. Then his head dipped toward hers.

  And some happy voice deep inside her said yes!

  * * *

  The sun had sunk behind the mountains, and Ben gave up his surveillance. The late afternoon was growing chilly and darker, and he had a pretty good idea that he wasn’t going to get Ryder alone tonight.

  He might have to change his plans somewhat, and that left a bad taste in his mouth. The woman seemed to be with him most of the time, and she was a witness. He didn’t particularly care about having to kill her to protect himself, but leaving two bodies behind would draw a hell of a lot more attention. He was going to have to give this more thought, and more thought meant more time.

  Cussing and irritated, he headed back across fields to make sure his car still hadn’t been noticed. He avoided the road even though traffic was lighter than he could ever have imagined traffic to be.

  He didn’t believe a single one of Ryder’s excuses because he remembered Brandy as she had been before her marriage. She’d had a few bouts of the blues, but nothing so serious that she hadn’t bounced back in a few days or weeks. To him it seemed obvious that Brandy’s deterioration, which had begun about a year after the marriage, had to be directly linked to something Ryder had been doing.

  Ben, by nature, was a man who liked the taste of revenge. He always found a way to get even and prided himself that his responses were proportional.

  A life for a life in this case.

  Taking that woman’s life also would be out of proportion, but it didn’t trouble him too much. Sometimes circumstances dictated a bigger response, and this was beginning to look like one of those instances.

  Well, he could wait a few days and watch some more. Maybe he’d find an answer in the patterns of the things they did. As soon as he found that pattern, he would make Ryder bleed out the way his sister had. No gunshot to end it quickly. No, he was going to bleed to death. It was just unfortunate that slashing Ryder’s wrists wouldn’t do the job. Too complicated and too difficult, so it would have to be something more certain.