To Claim a Wife

by Susan Fox

  Caitlin’s horse, the inexperienced three-year-old she’d been working with for the past few days, caught the mare’s alarm and whirled to run with her, the rope still snubbed to his saddle horn.

  The low thunder of water and the tremor beneath her feet increased the moment her horse took off. Caitlin glanced upstream, seeing the first rippling swell of water move around the curve and down the creek into her part of the long canyon.

  The jolt of fear that went through her turned her knees to rubber. Flash floods were sudden and deadly. Terror made her break into a run for the canyon path. In the time it took her to reach the base of the path, the roar of water grew deafening. She raced up the path, stumbling once in her haste.

  Halfway up, a rope fell over her head to her waist and cinched tightly. Startled, her arms trapped against her sides, she lost her balance and fell. She got her hands beneath her and jerked her head up, her attention claimed by the huge wall of water that charged down the canyon toward her. Frantic, she slipped her arms free, but kept her unknown rescuer’s loop around her waist as she scrambled to her feet and tried to reach the top of the path before the water struck.

  She was within two feet of the goal when the wall of water knocked her off the path and slammed her against the side of the canyon. Whoever held the rope didn’t let go. Dark water, gritty with dirt, filled her mouth and nose and burned her eyes. Too disoriented to do anything but cling to the rope and try to get a breath of air, she felt herself being pulled steadily upward.

  Suddenly her head was above water and she was clawing at the top of the bank. She was pulled roughly over the edge and dragged several feet across the grass before the rope abruptly went slack. Battered and soaked, she lay helplessly on dry ground, coughing up the water she’d swallowed and sobbing wildly for air.

  “You owe me your hide, Little Britches.”

  Beau’s boots stepped into her side vision and she felt him loom over her. The sharp tug of the rope reminded her it was still around her waist and that he held the other end.

  Another sharp tug and Beau’s low “Might be a good time to break you to ride,” sent a fresh wave of fear over her.

  Beau’s remarks to her lately had been crudely sexual. Jolted by his statement, she made an effort to get to her feet. She managed to get to her hands and knees, but Beau stepped back and yanked the rope to make her fall flat. He dug the toe of his big boot into her hip and forced her onto her back. Caitlin swung her foot to kick him away, but he stepped between her and the canyon to avoid it.

  Using his superior strength, Beau kept the rope taut to keep her on the ground....

  The rattle of a bridle and the sound of a horse trotting down the hill behind her snapped Caitlin from the recollection. She glanced over her shoulder to see Reno pull his huge bay to a halt.

  Though shaded by his hat brim, Reno’s eyes were a fiery blue, and the silence between them was heavy with hate and disapproval. She got the impression that he considered her presence at the canyon to be a desecration of sorts.

  Caitlin looked away from him and silently walked to her horse. She felt Reno’s eyes on every move she made and was grateful when he didn’t speak.

  Remembering what had happened at breakfast and that Reno was predisposed to mistake anything she said to him, she said nothing either. The only sure way to deal with him was to keep silent. Once she was mounted, she glanced his way.

  Apparently satisfied that she was leaving the canyon, his burning gaze made one brisk, dismissive sweep over her before he wheeled his horse and spurred it back the way he’d come.

  Caitlin watched him go, her eyes tracing the strong, proud set of his wide shoulders. How many more ways could Reno demonstrate his loathing for her? She started the gelding in another direction. She couldn’t live with Reno’s hatred and hostile silences day in and day out for the rest of her life. She doubted she could tolerate them another day.

  Caitlin rode back to the ranch headquarters late that afternoon. She put up the gelding, then walked to the house. Reno’s bay was in his stall, so he was somewhere close by.

  She’d decided to leave the ranch immediately. Reno had finally convinced her that they could never live together on the Broken B. Her experience with almost everyone else convinced her that she might never be able to live anywhere near this part of Texas. Waiting for the test results was a mere formality, since she no longer wanted the ranch.

  But she was too restless to go back to Montana. The thought of waiting for the test results in town wasn’t much more attractive. She’d go stir crazy at a motel and she wasn’t up to facing the people there. Now even San Antonio seemed too close to the Broken B. Perhaps leaving Texas behind forever was the most healthy thing she could ever do.

  She’d ridden out to the old homestead and spent a last hour there. As soon as she found Lucky and the others, she’d tell them goodbye. She’d stop at the cemetery in town to visit her mother’s grave, maybe drive around Coulter City before dark to see what had changed and what was the same. Then she’d drive to San Antonio.

  She debated the wisdom of trying one last time to talk to Reno about the day Beau died. The guilt she carried every waking hour made her ache for relief, however small. Though she hadn’t deliberately killed Beau, she hadn’t been able to save him either.

  Confessing everything to Reno wouldn’t guarantee that the burden would ease, wouldn’t guarantee that he’d soften toward her, but the wild, secret hope that he might find some reason to forgive her never left her thoughts. The rational part of her brain reminded her that her account of that day might make things worse, so terror held her back.

  On the other hand, now that she’d decided to leave the Broken B forever, what did she have to lose? She was giving up any claim to the Broken B anyway. Maybe she’d never go back to Montana, either. She didn’t have a life there that was very valuable, since any wrangler could do the job she’d done on the SC. She had her inheritance from her grandmother, three aging cowhands who’d befriended her, but no one else who she’d allowed close. She’d already found out that she was hopeless with men, so she’d never have a family of her own. The future held nothing particularly attractive for her, and the knowledge made her feel reckless.

  What was she really risking if Reno allowed her to tell him everything and things went badly? Was it possible to feel more guilt? Would her life really be so much worse if she threw away her last hope that Reno might change his mind about her? If life had taught her anything, it was that she could survive emotional trauma. The question was, did she really care anymore if she survived?

  Weariness made her steps slow on the patio. She let herself in the back door and moved quietly through the hall to the stairs. Once she reached her room, she packed her things, then carried the suitcases down to her rental car.

  Mary was nowhere around. Caitlin considered just leaving Reno a note. Thinking he was outside somewhere, she walked to the den for some paper.

  Reno heard Caitlin come in and go upstairs. A part of him realized he’d overreacted that morning at breakfast, but damn her for the chaos she’d brought to his life. He’d been furious when he’d found her at the canyon. He didn’t know how often she went there, and he suddenly didn’t care.

  He’d realized on his way back to the house that he hated the painful memories here. He’d decided to hand over every square inch of the Broken B to Caitlin, whether she was Jess Bodine’s kid or not.

  He’d give her everything else Jess had willed to him, too. He’d never wanted to inherit anything from Jess. He still had the Duvall Ranch near San Antonio. He’d added to it over the years, though it wasn’t quite as large as the Broken B. For three years, he’d run this ranch for Jess, leaving his own ranch in the hands of his foreman. The two years before that, right after Beau died, he’d lived on the Broken B for long stretches because his mother’s problems were so severe. After she’d died and Jess got sick, he’d moved to Coulter City for the duration. He’d missed being a daily part of his ranch, and
as magnificent as the Broken B was, it had been too painful a place for him to get attached to.

  He often wished his mother had never met Jess Bodine. And now that he was beginning to think less of Jess, he figured it was past time to go home and take care of what was his, time to find a wife and make his own family. He’d have the love of a good woman and the solace of home to heal him from the pain of the past five years.

  The sound of Caitlin’s footsteps in the hall made him tense. Though he was giving her everything, he didn’t want to see her, didn’t want to have to speak to her or look at her beautiful face. He didn’t want to see her tall, slender body and notice her lush curves or her beautiful mane of hair, didn’t want to lust for her and be tormented by the knowledge that wanting her was disloyal to his dead brother.

  He didn’t look up when she walked through the open door.

  Caitlin hesitated at the sight of Reno, then crossed the room to the desk. Without waiting for an invitation, she sat down on one of the wing chairs. He didn’t look up and her heart sank. Now that she’d decided to try a last time to tell him about Beau, her insides were crawling with anxiety, and her mouth was so dry her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  “I’m leaving the ranch.”

  She felt Reno’s reaction, and waited only a second for his stormy gaze to streak up to hers. She almost couldn’t go on. Her voice was soft, but she knew he could hear every word the moment she said, “I want to tell you about that day.”

  Reno’s expression went black and she braced herself for his anger.

  “My father lied about sending riders out to find me.”

  Reno got slowly to his feet, his face harsh with dislike. “Nothing you can say now will change anything. Beau will still be dead.”

  The words were brutal. Caitlin rose unsteadily to her feet as he came around the desk and strode to the door. He was leaving the room. Guilt knotted her throat, but she turned to follow him. “No one knows that better than me, but I need to—”

  Reno turned on her then and seized her upper arms roughly. He gave her a slight shake. “You need to what?” he demanded, his hot breath gusting into her face. “Ease your conscience?” He practically sneered the words. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say, now or ever.” He suddenly released her. “The ranch is yours. Everything Jess left is yours. You can have every acre, every holding, every damned dime of it and all the heartache and trouble it’ll cause you. I’ll take care of the lawyer and make sure it gets done legal, then I hope to God I never have to see your face again.”

  The cruel words made Caitlin shrink inside, made something in her heart wither and die. She felt so dizzy suddenly that she thought she would faint. Reno swung away from her and stalked from the room.

  The air pounded in the aftermath of his rage. His words repeated in her mind, a harsh litany of hate that made it difficult to breathe, difficult to think.

  Before she quite realized she’d taken a step, she found herself walking shakily out the back door. Her boots thudded dully on the patio stone as she walked to the part of the drive at the back of the large yard where she’d left her rental car.

  She had to leave this place. Now. She didn’t want the Broken B, she didn’t want anything of Jess Bodine’s. Reno’s angry gesture did nothing but increase the terrible guilt she felt over Beau’s death.

  The shouts coming from the stable began to make an impression. Caitlin realized dazedly that black smoke was billowing out the loft door of the stable, and she began to notice that the smell of smoke was sharp in the air.

  The scream of horses urged her toward the big barn, the frantic activity distracting her from her pain. She broke into a run.

  The fire had burned through the big roof and licked wildly at the sky above it. Seconds later, the whole roof was ablaze. Men were running into the stable to lead frightened horses from their stalls.

  A handful of wives and children stood well out of the way in a tight knot of worry as they watched more of the big bam catch fire. Two of the men aimed fire hoses at the flames, but the fire was too far along.

  Caitlin stopped out of the way. One woman paced restlessly apart from the other wives, wringing her hands and glancing frantically around. The woman’s obvious distress sent a tremor of foreboding through Caitlin as she recognized Mrs. Carnes, the mother of the two boys she’d caught smoking in the stable.

  She rushed to the woman and caught her arm. “Where are your boys?”

  The brimming eyes the woman turned on her were wild with fear. She shook her head. “I can’t find them.”

  Caitlin glanced toward the barn. My God, what if . . .

  Not consciously aware of the swift decision she made, Caitlin ran toward the doors of the stable. She dodged one of the horses that charged out of the smoky interior, but kept going. A cowhand materialized out of the smoke, carrying one of the boys. She recognized him as the older one and rushed to the sobbing child.

  “Where’s your brother?”

  The boy ignored her, but his hysterical sobs made her look toward the stable doors. The smoke was thick and now billowed so low that there was only two feet of clear air near the stable floor.

  She heard the cowboy shout to the boy’s mother, “What’s he sayin’?”, and felt such a staggering rush of fear that she was paralyzed. In one lightning moment of clarity, she understood what the boy had said. She could hear his sobs behind her and knew he was now crying too hard for his mother to understand.

  Billy’s still in there. Caitlin had heard the words clearly.

  Two of the men staggered out of the smoke, dragging a third cowboy between them. The fire was hotter now and the smoke was so thick that it boiled in the stable aisle.

  Billy’s still in there.

  If the boy had passed out from the heat and smoke, he might be lying somewhere inside. If he was flat on the ground, he might still be able to breathe. If he could breathe, he was still alive. Caitlin moved toward the stable numbly.

  An eerie sense of destiny slipped over her. Her life wasn’t worth much, so she was the logical choice to take the risk.

  I hope to God I never have to see your face again. Reno’s hateful words gave her a fatalistic calm and she broke into a run. Her last few breaths of good air were as deep as she could make them. She dimly heard the shouts of alarm as she plunged into the wall of smoke.

  She ran blindly to the center of the stable and dropped to her hands and knees to escape the smoke, her eyes streaming. Her lungs were on fire from holding her breath and her first gasp of the air near the floor choked her. Narrow fingers of fire were cascading down to the tops of the stalls. The heat scorched her face and hands, and her clothes were painfully hot.

  Caitlin felt her way along until she encountered the solid wall of the tack room just a few feet from the ladder to the loft. The fact that the door was shut was significant, since it was usually open. She’d heard that small children sometimes tried to hide from fires. Had Billy hidden in the tack room? It would be a stroke of good luck if he had.

  The tack room door was solidly closed. Caitlin slid her hand up the heated wood for the door lever but discovered it was locked.

  Coughing wildly in the smoke, she forced herself to her feet. If the door was locked without using the padlock on the outside of the door, then someone had locked it from the inside.

  Dizzy from lack of oxygen, she kicked at the door. With every beat of her heart, she felt herself weaken, felt time running out. Giving one last effort, she kicked the door with all her might. The shock of pain that shot through her foot and radiated up her ankle told her she’d either sprained her foot or broken it.

  The door gave way and she pushed it open. She dropped to her knees and bent low to swing her hands over the floor, searching for the boy. Her fingers encountered a small jeans-clad leg almost instantly.

  The terrible coughing spasms that claimed her that same moment made lights flash behind her closed eyes. She was so weak now that she knew she could last
only a few more moments. Struggling to stay conscious, she pulled the boy toward her, then backed out the door on her knees as she gathered his limp body close.

  The roar of flames over the stable aisle was terrifying. She heard the warning groan of wood and got clumsily to her feet. The pain in her right foot made her stagger and limp, but she managed to stay on her feet and cling to the boy. The flames that licked down the stall fronts scorched her arms as she limped past. Dizziness made it difficult to navigate, and she could see nothing as she made the tortuous effort to escape. She guessed she was within only a few precious feet of the stable doors when she heard a loud whoosh.

  A sudden burst of pain exploded like fireworks in her head, and sent her and the boy crashing to the stable floor.

  Reno paced the waiting area outside the door that led to the emergency room. Billy Carnes was being treated for smoke inhalation. His terrified parents were with him, and his condition had stabilized. Though the boy was doing very well, they expected him to be admitted to the pediatric ward as soon as the staff could arrange it.

  He didn’t know about Caitlin. She had smoke inhalation, but she’d been burned when the loft floor beams had caved in on her. She’d sustained a head injury that had the potential to kill her all by itself.

  No one had come out lately to give him a progress report, and it had been two hours since the last one. The fact that they were too busy with her to spare someone to bring him news seemed ominous.

  Terror made him feel sick. His emotions were turbulent and wildly confused. The knowledge that he didn’t want Caitlin to die—that he couldn’t bear the thought—shocked him. It was a surprise to realize that as much as he’d hated her, he’d never for an instant wished her dead.

  Her last words to him began another tortuous repeat in his mind. I want to tell you about that day... My father lied . . .

  Somehow he cut the words off. But the moment he did, his last words to her pounded his conscience. I hope to God I never have to see your face again . . .