by Stacy Reid
A few seconds later, a footfall sounded behind her. She knew it was Joshua, and she suspected the only reason she heard him was that he wanted his presence known. She unhitched the wagon with hands that trembled, then hopped onto the seat, and collected the reins. Beth didn’t want to look at him, but he was right there. Swallowing down the nerves, she faced him. The smell of leather and tobacco filled her nostrils. Her world upended itself when she met the beautiful dark green of his eyes. They were steady on her.
“Is there something I need to kill that man for, brown eyes?” he asked in an even tone.
The question shocked and disturbed her equally. How easily he spoke of killing. “No! Of course not! The solution is not always the gun.”
She jerked the reins, and the horses rumbled away, taking her from the town, and a burning situation she hardly knew how to solve. Abraham knew Joshua had been in town, and he knew what had happened upstairs. Her entire face burned, and she had to push down the discomfort, very conscious of the man who had mounted his horse and rode beside her. He must know about Grayson, and she couldn’t fathom why he hadn’t asked her about her baby…their baby. The very knowledge she had been intimate with this stranger beside her, was slowly killing her inside. How very different it all felt to be in front of him once more. Did he remember how terribly unladylike she had been in her demands?
He rode on his big black Appaloosa silently, keeping the slow pace of the buck wagon. It was a nerve-wracking ride out of town. Several minutes went by and unable to bear the silence anymore, Beth slanted him a quick glance. “Is there a reason you are riding with me, Mr. Kincaid?”
He smiled. She was not sure if she could even call it that. It was a brief quirk of his lips that disappeared as soon as it formed. Her heart screeched to a shocking halt. Instead of anxiety slicing through her blood, desire roared inside her, slapping at her with its strength. She fought the blush burning her body. You are absurd, Bethany.
“Do you think I'd harm you?”
No…yes…I don’t know. His eyes commanded most of her attention, the green so sharp and piercing, and she stared at him helplessly. He was so very handsome, with the strong set of his chin, the hewn, savage lines of his jaw. She could feel his strength pouring off him, and the woman inside her responded to it, even as fear darted through her. He was too big…too powerful. One hit from his fist and he would break her jaw, one step from his feet and her ribs would shatter.
He must have seen the doubts in her eyes for he flinched. “I would never hurt you,” he said. "I am ensuring you get back to the ranch safely.”
Beth glanced away, trying to regain her composure, before looking at him once more. “Thank you.”
He tipped his hat to her but did not ride away, simply cantering beside her. Her hands tightened on the reins as the wagon jerked over the rough dirt path toward the ranch. The sun was hot. Dust lifted from the feet of the horses, and a trail of dust lingered in the air. The further they moved away from the Blue Lagoon, the more she relaxed. There was a strange comfort in having him beside her, unusual that, for she mistrusted men in general.
She snuck a glance at him. He gazed ahead, his eyes scanning the prairie.
“I am stopping by the river. Would you like to stop with me?”
They did need to talk, and she would prefer to do so without the prying eyes of Sheridan and Elijah.
“Yes, the horses could do with some water.”
They followed the path to the natural inlet where large boulders in the river slowed the current and created a little pool. The sweet scent of wildflowers came with the wind, and for a moment Beth stared across the rolling grassland, hoping she was making the right decision. She jumped from the wagon as he dismounted. She walked over to the small rocks, stooped as ladylike as possible, cupped her palms in the swift current, taking a long drink. After she’d had her fill she stood and watched him drink, then he unhitched the horses from the wagon rail and led them to the water. He took his time, ensuring they had their fill and then re-harnessed them.
It felt like it took forever for him to face her. They stood like that for long minutes, simply staring at each other. He was tall, lean, raw-boned, and so handsome, a dart of heat arrowed through her.
“I have a son,” he finally said.
“You cannot be sure.” The denial was swift and instinctive, for she did not understand what he wanted from her.
“Bethany,” he said with such soft possessiveness, her heart jolted. “I’m the only man that has had you. Grayson is mine.”
And for the first time, she admitted it aloud. “Yes.”
Joshua looked away across the rivers, and the land that spread for miles, land that belonged to his brother and Sheridan.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for his birth and those months leading up to it. And I’m sorry I haven’t been there since.”
Her mouth went dry. “You didn’t know.”
“Was it difficult?”
“No,” she said honestly. “Sheridan was very kind.”
“I would like to be in his life if you are comfortable with it.”
Her heart was a pounding mess. For some reason, she hadn’t expected this. “I’ve heard mention you are a drifter.”
"I am part owner in the Triple K ranch. I have wealth and a gold mine. I can provide for him."
She sucked in an audible breath. “I did not doubt that you could.” Inexplicably she felt like crying, and her throat burned. She had never imagined she would be required to have this conversation.
The man before her was her son’s father, and he looked like he was, hard, tough ...and lonely. And he had a target on his back. She took a deep breath. “That man in town just now…he’s Abraham Hardin.”
Joshua leaned back against the tree, and there was something in his slow perusal that had her pulse pounding. How distressing it was to be so painfully aware of him.
“He’s my husband’s brother. He’s in Blue Lagoon looking for him. The night I left Liberty my husband had planned to ride into El Paso with his band of outlaws to free his brother from jail. I knew he would be gone for a few weeks, and that it was my chance to escape. I…I…a part of me believed that Benjamin had carried out his plans, but according to Abraham he hasn’t seen his brother since he was jailed.”
Joshua’s response was a long silence. She studied his dark features, searching for some clue to his thoughts.
“I’ll let Abraham know where his brother is buried.”
Beth jerked as if he had punched her. She faltered into complete stillness. Those unfathomable eyes seemed to measure her every reaction. “Benjamin Hardin is dead?”
Joshua’s eyes spoke for him, they were flat and hard.
Her knees weakened, and her stomach flipped in a slick slide of dread. Abraham Hardin would not be pleased, but she was free. “Dear God, I am truly a widow?”
“Yes.”
A mix of emotions assaulted her senses—fear, relief, and joy. “That night…you killed him.”
“Yes.”
Beth closed her eyes, distantly aware of the shaking of her body. For so many nights she had dreaded he would find her. Once her brother had settled in the Cheyenne territory, he had written Benjamin of his location. That was how she had known to find the WC, and for so many nights her nightmares had evolved from the dark memories of the past to the fear of what he would do if he found her. So she had prepared and waited. And now to know he was never coming. An ache traveled up her throat and to the back of her eyes. Her mortal soul was in danger for she was glad a man was dead. Then a question burned through her. “How did it happen?”
“We fought…he lost. And I dragged him away and buried him behind the stables. I wanted no questions to follow you.”
Her stomach fluttered in response to those words. “You did it because he had hurt me.”
He made no reply.
“Why?”
The unspoken words were implicit in his penetrating stare. This man wanted her as his wo
man. Her legs trembled, and she leaned against the large oak tree. Beth stared helplessly at him. A faint breeze stirred, fresh and pleasant, the horses nickered, and the rushing of the stream seemed like a roar. Joshua moved closer and reached for her. Perplexingly she did not resist. Beth hadn’t been touched by another man since…well since that night. Her heart caught at the careful way he drew her against him.
A rush of fierce anticipation flowed through her veins. He lowered his head slowly, giving her enough time to pull back. His mouth claimed hers, hot and demanding, yet strangely gentle. Something deep within her belly quickened, sending powerful darts of longing through her. She froze, then moaned softly, rising on her toes to meet him, her arms encircling his neck. He kissed her lightly on the lips while he moved his hand from her ribs to her breast.
She pulled away breathing raggedly. “What are you doing?”
There was the slightest of pauses. “I reckon I’m courting you.”
“Courting me!”
His eyes held hers, relentless and piercing. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Because I have your son?”
“That and other reasons.”
Her gaze dropped to his mouth, that firm, sensual mouth that had shown her such pleasure. “That’s crazy,” she breathed softly, truly shocked. Courting implied marriage and so much more than she would ever give to another man.
“Not from where I’m standing.”
“It certainly is from where I’m standing.”
“Why? You’re a beautiful woman, and I’m drawn to you. I have been from the first moment I saw you in Liberty. I believe it was a mutual attraction.”
“Courting implies marriage.” And her staying in the west. Even if she had wanted to remain at the Whispering Creek, Abraham’s arrival had irrevocably smashed her contentment. Would he believe that she had nothing to do with his brother’s disappearance? Would he leave her alone? She doubted it.
“Yes.”
“You don’t love me.” Beth stilled, her heart slamming too violently. What was love, anyway? Why had she mentioned love? She’d already been a fool because of love once. Beth didn’t want to marry any man again, not even one as sinfully tempting as the one before her.
He smiled—a slow, dangerous smile that made her nerves leap.
“I reckon I eventually will love you.”
How would she even know if she could love this man? Or how would he know when he eventually loved her? Would it come after they’d known each other for a long time, or would it come quick and sharp, like the boom of thunder, and the flash of lightning?
“And you will eventually love me,” he mused.
There was only one word to describe that look in his eye, hungry. Her eyes widened, and panic clawed at the back of her throat. “I…” She shook her head sharply. “I am heading to Boston. That has been my plan for years, Joshua. I have a job waiting for me there, and my mother is waiting for me. I only just found out I am a widow,” she said hoarsely. “I’m not interested in marrying again.”
He feathered his thumb across her quivering bottom lip. “Give me a few weeks. I reckon if you don’t like my courting, I’ll simply accept it as it is.”
“Hog spittle, men like you don’t give up.”
He stilled, his eyes somber as he stared down at her. “With you, I see new mornings and new beginnings. I would like to explore that. But I would never force you in any way.”
A treacherous heat stole into her limbs. She closed her eyes, wildly afraid of him and of what he was making her feel. She would be twice the fool if she allowed herself to fall again under another man’s charm.
Except…Joshua Kincaid hadn’t even tried to be charming.
Chapter 6
“Joshua Kincaid, I would like you to meet your son.”
Every sense of his was arrested by the woman before him. Her fiery hair was caught atop her head in an elegant chignon, with tendrils artfully cascading down her cheeks. His mouth was dry, and his heart pounded. A reaction which occurred each time he saw her. She wore a long-sleeved, dark-blue, buttoned-up dress with a perfectly starched collar. It hugged her upper body tightly before flaring from her hips down to her ankles. There was something elegant and gentle about her, that spoke of a different place and a different time. Certainly, a world of gentility he was unacquainted with. Though his mothers and sisters were undoubtedly ladies, they were capable of being as ruthless as the men they loved.
It took Joshua a few seconds to tear his gaze from her prettiness to the child in her hands.
“Grayson,” she spoke softly as if the boy could understand. "Meet your father, Joshua Kincaid."
The baby shocked them both with a gurgle of delight, he lurched from her arms, and Joshua had to lunge and catch him. He chortled, then rested his head trustingly against his chest. A lump formed in his throat, and for a moment he almost didn’t know what to do with himself.
“He knows you,” she said accusingly.
Guilty as charged.
Beth fisted her hand on her hip, and her eyes spit fire at him. “Mr. Kincaid, you will explain yourself.”
“I may have been to see him a few times, up in your room.”
“I think you did more than that, Joshua Kincaid.”
He cleared his throat. “I may have taken him in my arms a few times too and talked to him some.”
Her eyes narrowed contemplatively. "I knew I smelled you in my room."
A babble of excited nonsense erupted from Grayson, and she laughed, stepped closer, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Joshua considered her bent head, wondering what her reaction would be if he took her in his arms and kissed her for all to see. Not that they had much of an audience, only a few ranch hands mending the eastern fences, and Elijah who was breaking in a few broncos.
“I was about to take him for his daily walk.” She cleared her throat delicately. “Would you like to come with us?”
He stared at her.
“This isn’t me agreeing to courting,” she hastily amended.
Joshua couldn’t help it. He smiled. She made a pretty picture when flustered. They made their way down to the full wrap around porch, strolled past the barns and stables, meandering with no visible location in mind. Bethany started to sing softly, the purity of her voice startling him momentarily. Her voice was rich and beautiful, and instead of interrupting to pay her a compliment he listened. Peace settled inside of Joshua like he had never felt in all his years.
“How old are you, Bethany?”
She peered up at him. “I reckon you’ve never courted a lady before. It’s quite ungentlemanly to ask for a lady’s age.”
“So, I’m courting you then?”
She scowled, then blushed. “Twenty-three.” There was a brief hesitation, then she asked, “And you?”
“Twenty-nine.”
She smiled, but there was a wariness in her gaze he did not understand. Her throat worked on a swallow, and she looked away. “I love coming out here, feeling the wind on my face.”
The main ranch wasn’t in screaming distance. And he spotted no ranch hands close by. Men could approach and catch her unawares. Several fir trees were hiding the trail a visitor would take to the WC. “You come out here often? To this very spot?”
“Yes.”
There was the faint rustling through the grass and leaves. He watched and listened which came naturally to him after the years of his life. “Do you bring a weapon?”
He was mildly surprised when she pulled a bowie knife from the deep pockets of her dress. “Do you know how to use a gun, a colt?”
“Why yes, I do,” she drawled, her eyes twinkling.
“The next time you should walk with one. It is better to shoot a man than allow yourself to get within his reach and then defend yourself with a knife. The ranch hands will also hear the shot.”
She flashed him a wicked smile. “I don’t need to get close to any man’s reach.”
Then the knife streaked from her hand and buried itself into
a large oak tree several feet away with dangerous precision. He went over and saw where the tree had hundreds of cuts, some deep, others shallow, a testament to how often she had practiced.
“I’m impressed.”
“I started coming out here when Jericho Sullivan began pestering Sheridan several months back,” Beth said softly, strolling over to pluck her bowie knife from the tree. “I knew the kind of man he was. His eyes were mean, and I knew he wanted to hurt her. I feared one day he would have succeeded in attempting to hurt, rape or kill her. So, I came out here, and I practiced. Every day. Even when it was so cold, and my entire body would quake.”
He dipped his head and allowed his mouth to touch hers, light and teasing. “It’s a part of courting,” he murmured.
Surprisingly she laughed, those brown eyes assessing him as if she were trying to strip his soul. It was the first time he'd heard her laugh, and the sound was achingly sweet, pleasant, and contagious.
“Sheridan is richer for having a friend like you.” From what Elijah had told him, Bethany could have departed for the east months ago, but she had refused to leave Sheridan who had been too damn stubborn to give up her home and run from a fight it had been impossible for her to win. Of course, Sheridan had found Elijah holed up in the mountains where he had been burying his demons to fight for her. And from the way his brother looked at that woman, she’d made the right decision.
Beth sighed, caressing the edge of the blade. “Much good it did her. When she was taken, I allowed fear to overtake my common sense. I contributed nothing to getting her back. Well, I did scream a lot," she said with wry embarrassment, color staining her cheeks.
He rubbed his knuckles down the side of her cheek, loving the soft feel of her skin. “I heard tell there was a time Sullivan came for her and you shot his hat off his head. That took guts and sass.”
She gave a short, amused laugh as her brown eyes lit with laughter and appreciation. “That it did, and I quite like the idea of me having sass.”
There was steel beneath that sweet softness.
“You have more than you could possibly know,” he said. “You survived Benjamin Hardin, and you did not wilt under his brutality. Instead, you made plans to get the hell out.”