To Claim a Wife

by Susan Fox

  Caitlin hesitated, but Reno was immovable. The frustration of it made her insides chum. The wall of hate between them seemed more formidable than ever. The dismal reminder that the truth—even if he knew it all—had the potential to make him hate her even more made her feel hopeless. She turned away and quietly left the room.

  Her nightmare was as dark as the churning black water that thundered through the canyon and boiled against the ragged earth at its edge.

  Caitlin was on her back, soaked and exhausted, gasping with terror and relief. Beau stood too near the edge of the canyon, and she told him so. Twice.

  Suddenly, the earth trembled beneath her legs. Startled, she cried out as she sat up. Instinct made her scoot backward and hook a heel on solid ground. As the canyon side gave way, her foot slipped.

  Beau’s mocking smile switched to a look of surprise, then horror as the wide chunk of sod he’d been standing on fell away. Caitlin jerked her other leg back to catch her heel on solid ground the same instant Beau flung himself toward her. Time slowed to fractions of seconds as she saw Beau grab for her booted ankle and catch it. But she was yanking her foot backward in an instinctive scramble to save herself, and could only watch with shock-rounded eyes as Beau’s hand slipped off the muddy leather...

  Caitlin awoke to the sound of her own scream. Halfway out of bed and disoriented in the darkness, she stumbled and fell to her hands and knees. Icy chills quaked over her skin and she was so nauseated that she hung her head and panted sickly. Finally, she forced herself to her feet and staggered toward the bathroom.

  Breathing carefully so she wouldn’t be sick, she snapped on the light and moved to sit on the edge of the bathtub. The dream hadn’t come this vividly in months.

  You were the reason Beau was at the canyon that day...if you hadn’t gone off in a tantrum, he’d still be alive.

  Reno’s words haunted her. He’d got it wrong, so wrong. She wasn’t the reason Beau had been at the canyon, but in the end, she was the reason he’d died. She hadn’t meant to kick his hand away. In saner moments, she knew he’d grabbed her boot at the wrong second and that her boot had been so slick with mud that he hadn’t got a firm grip. Her other boot heel had already slipped off the sod and had crashed into water up to her knee. She couldn’t have managed the leverage or time to try again before she fell in herself.

  The bitter truth was that if she’d hesitated a fraction of a second, Beau might have had a chance. If she’d not instinctively yanked her foot back to catch her boot heel on solid ground, he might have been able to get a tighter grip on her ankle. Then he could have grabbed for the solid part of the bank with his other hand and got a firm hold before the water could tear him away.

  But if she’d hesitated long enough for Beau to get a good grip on her boot, they both would have been swept away. That one small heel-hold ended up being the only thing that had saved her. Without it, she couldn’t have moved backward far enough to keep from falling in with that part of the bank. As Beau had.

  The hollow feeling of agony increased her nausea and she rested her temple wearily against the cool wall tile. Why had Beau been the one to die that day and she had not? Why couldn’t she have died with him? However bleak and unhappy her life had been before that day, her life had ended when his had. However wild and cruel and selfish Beau’d been, he’d been loved and highly valued by everyone.

  She sometimes wondered if that was part of the outrage over Beau’s death. Outrage that the favorite had been taken away instead of the one who’d mattered so much less.

  The heartbreak of it went over her in relentless waves of pain. She closed her eyes and made herself withstand it, though she didn’t know why she bothered anymore. The memories never ended, never truly settled, and never allowed her peace. She’d coped with them at least well enough to function, but she was so tired of the battle, so tired of the failure.

  Eventually, she made herself get up from the side of the bathtub and snap off the light. She walked through the dark to the bed and climbed in. Exhaustion eased her into sleep.

  Jess’s lawyer came to the ranch the next afternoon to read the will. As she’d suspected, Reno inherited everything—stocks, business holdings, gas and oil interests—and half the Broken B. She endured the lawyer’s reading of the part about the blood test and felt again the cruel shock of it.

  Suddenly she was struck by the realization that her father could have chosen something else to give her that would have been as valuable as half the ranch. Jess had other holdings of equal value he could have bequeathed to her, ones that would have freed her from a joint inheritance with Reno.

  The fact that Jess had chosen to give her something that would put her at odds with the man who hated her was just another way of punishing her. And because she’d have to be Jess’s biological daughter to be in the position to inherit jointly with Reno, it proved that blood really had nothing to do with her father’s treatment of her.

  The old insecurities stirred and swelled. The secret fear that she was unlovable was never more devastating than at that moment. Caitlin left the room the instant the lawyer finished. Her copy of the will sat on the desk, untouched.

  The next few days were lonely and monotonous. Caitlin had been away long enough to forget how loneliness felt on the Broken B, but it wasn’t long until it struck her full force. Because Reno wanted her to stay away from the men and not take part in any of the work around the ranch, she had nothing to do to pass the time. She took long rides during the day, but it began to feel too much like her wanderings through the big lonely ranch house in those two years between her mother’s death and her father’s remarriage. The nightmares came every night now, and without the distraction of work, they haunted her during the day.

  Twice more, she’d looked through the house for pictures of her mother, including her father’s room in the search, but she’d found nothing. She’d even called Madison to ask her about them, but Maddie had refused to take her call.

  Finally, four days after the funeral, Caitlin drove to town and parked in front of the mansion that Madison had inherited from their grandmother. She went up the front walk and knocked on the door. A maid answered right away.

  At her polite, “May I tell Miz St. John who’s callin’?,” Caitlin gave her name.

  The maid’s pleasant smile faded to a brittle line. “Miz St. John isn’t receivin’ guests this afternoon, Miz Bodine. Next time, please call before you drive all the way into town.”

  The maid started to close the door, but Caitlin put up a hand to block it. “Would you mind giving her a message?”

  Clearly the maid was wary of her, but she inclined her head politely to signal her agreement.

  “I’ve been looking for pictures of my mother. I’d appreciate it if Miss St. John could find some for me. Our grandmother must have had at least a few.”

  “And where should Miz St. John call if she’s able to find some?”

  “I’ll be at the ranch. If I’m not there, someone will know how to contact me.”

  The maid’s brisk “Good afternoon,” and her swift move to close the door left Caitlin standing awkwardly on the doorstep. She turned and walked back to her car.

  Caitlin took a moment to glance at the huge homes that lined the other side of the street, their monstrous well-tended lawns separating each residence. The mansions on Madison’s side of the street were just as large, the lawns just as spacious. Caitlin caught sight of two curtains—in the windows of two different houses—move, then swing back into place.

  The idea that at least two people on the richest street in Coulter City felt compelled to keep an eye on her didn’t improve her downcast mood.

  By the next day, Caitlin had had enough. She had to have something to do. There were several solitary jobs on a ranch the size of the Broken B, so Reno would have to allow her to work. Because Jess had ordered the most definitive DNA test, it could be weeks before the results of the blood test were known.

  Though she’d taken an
indefinite leave of absence from her job in Montana, she’d go crazy if she didn’t have anything productive to do with her time. At first, the chance that she couldn’t inherit had made her want to stay and fight, or at least stay on in Texas for as long as she could, as a kind of farewell to the ranch she’d grown up on. Now she wasn’t so sure the ranch or the wait was worth it.

  She’d already decided not to contest the will if the blood test went against her. No sense impoverishing herself and wearing her heart out trying to get something no one wanted her to have. Even if the test results went her way, she wasn’t certain how long she would stay. In a town the size of Coulter City and the surrounding ranch community, shunning was a very powerful and persuasive method of running off undesirables. If public attitude toward her—Reno’s in particular—didn’t change, she’d eventually have no choice but to leave the area.

  In the meantime, she needed something to do. Every morning, Reno got up earlier than she did and had breakfast alone. He ate at the cookhouse at noon, then had Mary bring a supper tray to the den in the evening. Caitlin ate her meals in the dining room or on the patio out by the pool. Solitude hadn’t improved her meager appetite.

  The next morning, Caitlin was up at 4:00 a.m., twisting her long hair into a thick braid, then rushing silently down the back stairs to the kitchen. Because she’d reached the kitchen before Mary, she started a pot of coffee. Mary came in soon after, bid her a pleasant good morning, then efficiently began to cook breakfast

  Caitlin was sitting at the kitchen table with her shaking hands wrapped tightly around her coffee cup when she heard Reno’s boot steps in the back hall.

  That Reno wasn’t pleased to see her up so early sitting at the table across from his chair was an understatement. Anger glinted in his eyes and his mouth settled into a flat line. Caitlin’s nerves went raw with suspense. Mary was close enough to hear every word between them, and because the woman was the only person outside of Lucky, Tar and Bob who’d made her feel welcome, she was suddenly worried that Reno might say something hateful and change that.

  Reno grabbed the first section of the newspaper and sat down. His gaze blazed into hers a few painful seconds before he glanced down at the paper, briefly scanned the front page, then briskly opened it.

  Caitlin took a sip of hot coffee and felt her spirits sag lower. He hadn’t said two words to her since that evening in the den when he’d ordered her out. Judging from his hard expression and the fact that he didn’t look at her, he’d all but dismissed her from his part of the universe.

  She glanced once at Mary, who was busily turning the pair of breakfast steaks under the broiler, then looked over at Reno. Her soft “I need a job to fill the time,” was quiet, but determined.

  Reno’s gaze wavered on the newsprint he was reading, but he didn’t glance her way, and his hard expression didn’t change. “The employment office is dowatown.”

  Caitlin labored to keep her voice steady and reasonable. “I saw the two-year-olds in the east pasture. I assume you had them moved there because you plan to have someone start handling them.”

  Reno turned a page of the paper. “Someone. Not you.”

  “There’s tack in the stable that needs repair and clean—”

  “Can’t use you.”

  Reno didn’t look up from the paper. Mary started their way with food. Reno heard her coming, then quickly folded the paper and laid it aside. Mary set two small serving platters between them, then turned and went for the others.

  Caitlin watched Reno’s hard features relax into a smile of thanks when Mary finished setting food before them. But the moment Mary walked away to unload the dishwasher from the night before, his smile vanished.

  “I’m used to hard work,” she told him under the cover of rattling silverware and dishes.

  Reno’s brisk movements as he cut into his steak hinted at temper. “How many times do you want to hear the word no?” His gaze came up and burned over her face.

  Caitlin struggled to maintain eye contact with him. “I’ve heard the word all my life. If I let it stop me, I wouldn’t be here now.”

  The quiet declaration made his face go rigid. His reaction—and the terrible meaning he took from her words—sent a wave of nausea over her. She’d meant it as an oblique reference to her father’s refusal to love her, to allow her rightful place as his daughter, and all the important things that had been denied her as a result. That Reno connected her statement to his brother’s death was horrifying. His low words confirmed it.

  “Did Beau tell you no?” The demand came out in a growl. “Did he say it—did he scream it when you kicked him away?”

  Caitlin felt the blood drain from her face. Reno thumped his knife and fork to the table. The sound made her jump. He stood up so abruptly that his chair clattered backward on two legs and teetered before it rocked forward and settled upright. He stalked from the table to the wall pegs, grabbed his hat, then slammed out the back door.

  Caitlin stared down at her plate, stricken. She felt Mary’s questioning gaze on her and struggled to behave normally. Reno had walked out on a full plate of food. She could hardly do the same, though she was certain she couldn’t eat a bite.

  Remembering what Reno had said the other night about Mary’s feelings underscored his upset. If he could leave a full plate and risk hurting the cook’s feelings, then he was violently upset.

  Caitlin reluctantly picked up her fork and made herself eat.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CAITLIN saddled the black gelding. She’d tried to stay at the house, but the huge rooms seemed so empty. Mary had politely declined her offer to help with housework. And because Mary was one of the few people who was pleasant to her, she’d not wanted to press. God knew how genuine Mary’s pleasantness was, or how deep it went.

  She hadn’t seen much of Lucky or Bob or Tar these past days. When she’d caught sight of one of them, they were usually working with some of the other men, so she’d kept her distance. She had no wish to put any of them at odds with the men they had to work with.

  Finished with the saddle, she swung up onto the gelding and rode down the alley that bisected the corrals. The thought of spending another day wandering the ranch depressed her. Perhaps tomorrow she’d drive to San Antonio. She’d already decided that spending time in Coulter City would lead to disaster. She’d considered finding some sort of work that needed to be done around the Broken B and just doing it, but it might be best to wait until Reno cooled off a little. If that was even possible.

  Caitlin found herself riding toward the canyon. The dreams had been relentless. The longer she avoided that part of the ranch, the more intense they became.

  Perhaps she’d been wrong to stay away. Perhaps there was some value to seeing it all again. Waking, she never allowed herself to remember all at once everything that had happened. The nightmares, however stark and realistic they were, rarely forced her to relive everything at one time either. But that might be because she was always able to fight them and bring herself to wakefulness before they could.

  The moment she rode the gelding over the rise and saw the canyon, her heart began to beat heavily. The awful restlessness she’d been feeling twisted wildly inside her. She realized how tightly she held the reins when the gelding tossed his head and sidestepped to a nervous halt.

  Forcing her grip to relax, she urged the horse down the hill and across the wide, dry grass verge that skirted the lip of the canyon. The gelding stopped several feet from the ragged edge.

  Caitlin made herself dismount. She dropped the horse’s reins, and while she worked up her courage, she stroked his glossy shoulder as he grazed.

  It seemed to take forever to make her shaking legs carry her to the edge. The canyon was a wide, curving furrow that cut across a corner of Broken B land and eventually branched into two forks that went shallow about a half mile past the Broken B boundary. Easily one hundred feet wide here at the deepest bend of the creek, it was nearly thirty feet deep. The narrow creek at
the base of the canyon was shallow enough to wade in this time of year and was maybe a dozen feet wide. To look at it now, it was hard to believe that the creek could ever flood so high that the canyon was filled and the waterline rose to within a foot of where she stood now.

  A handful of horses grazed the tender green grass that grew on both sides of the creek at the bottom of the canyon. The sight was so peaceful and normal that the shock of that awful day struck her with fresh violence. Two colts near the creek nipped at each other, drawing her attention. When they began to frolic together, sharp images flashed in her mind....

  A sorrel foal had been in the canyon that day. A few days old at the most, he’d blundered into the mud near the rain-swollen creek. Clumsy and easily spooked, he’d managed to mire his long legs deep in the mud. His black dam paced anxiously nearby.

  Caitlin had heard the flash flood warnings earlier that day. Though it wasn’t yet raining on the Broken B, she could see storm clouds several miles in the distance, and the dark gray sheet from cloud to ground that indicated torrential rains.

  Filled with the foolish bravery and confidence of youth, she’d urged her horse onto the shallow path that angled down the wall of the canyon. The moment she reached the bottom, she shook out her rope and spurred her horse to the edge of the creek mud.

  Once she had a loop on the foal, she dismounted and her horse stepped back to pull the rope taut. She worked her way down the rope, wading the sucking mud to half lift, half shove the foal out of the mire before she followed it out. She gently scolded the small, frightened animal and smoothly removed the rope. The mare rushed up to eagerly inspect her baby.

  Caitlin could still recall her horror at the first tremors beneath her boots and the faint thunder of water up the canyon. The mare’s head came up and she whickered nervously before she reached down to give her foal a sharp nip on the flank. The startled foal jumped forward and the mare bolted after her.