To Claim a Wife

by Susan Fox

  He’d meant every word when he’d said them. But now?

  My father lied.

  What had Jess lied about? The only thing he could think she was talking about was Jess’s brief testimony at the inquest. Jess had said that Caitlin had worried everyone by haring off in a tantrum when there were flash-flood warnings out. After hours of worry, he and Beau and some of the men had gone out looking for her.

  My father lied The words made another track through his mind.

  Caitlin had been raised on the Broken B. Whatever problems she’d had with jealousy and moodiness, or with Jess or Beau, she’d been as responsible and savvy and capable with the stock and ranch work as men who’d worked all their lives on ranches. He’d seen her in all kinds of weather, and he couldn’t remember a time when she’d seemed reckless or foolish around potential danger.

  Truth to tell, if anyone had been careless around the danger of flash floods, it was easier to believe it of Beau than of Caitlin. Jess had regularly berated Caitlin for even a hint of irresponsibility or incompetence, but he’d chuckled indulgently when Beau slipped up, and he’d bragged about Beau’s nerve.

  Beau, ever the daredevil, had constantly thumbed his nose at danger. He’d had too much crazy good luck to have learned any hard lessons, and that had made him more daring than ever.

  Now Reno remembered the times when Jess had seemed to favor Beau over Caitlin. That was mainly the reason he’d gone out of his way to give her a bit of praise or a kind word when he was around. It had embarrassed him to see Beau get away with things that Caitlin could never think of doing.

  The memory of Caitlin running into the burning stable sent a fresh shock over him. The Carnes had made their bad opinion of her clear, yet she’d charged in to save their kid as if they were her best friends. Clearly, she hadn’t held their harsh attitude toward her against them. Had it been that way when Beau was killed? According to Lucky and the others, she’d been frantic to save him too.

  Confusion cranked his turbulent emotions several notches higher. What the hell was going on in his head?

  CHAPTER SIX

  THEY moved Caitlin upstairs to the ICU late that night. The doctor was noncommittal about her chances. Her lungs were in better shape than any of the doctors had expected. Most of her bums weren’t serious, but she’d be in pain for a while. When they couldn’t remove her boot, they’d found out a bone in her right foot was broken. Her foot and ankle had been so swollen that they’d had to cut off the boot.

  The worst injury was the concussion she’d sustained when she was hit by the falling debris. She hadn’t regained consciousness.

  When they let Reno into her ICU cubicle for a few moments, the sight of her pained him. Her face had been scorched by the terrible heat of the fire, and was shiny with the medication they’d put on it. Her eyebrows and eyelashes were singed, and her hair—which had been so glossy and magnificent and long—was now little more than shoulder length. The nurses had cut off the rest, but a hairdresser would have to do a better job later.

  Her hands and arms were lightly bandaged, and he could see the bulk of heavier bandages on her left shoulder under her hospital gown. Her right foot and ankle had been carefully propped up on pillows, but didn’t have a cast yet.

  Reno stood at her bedside and stared grimly, watching as she coughed weakly in her sleep. The compulsion to touch her, maybe speak to her, made him grip the bed rail and grit his teeth. She didn’t have anyone who cared for her except Lucky, Bob and Tar. But none of them were family, so none of them were allowed into the ICU. He’d called Madison St. John, but she was in New York.

  He didn’t realize he’d reached for Caitlin until his fingers brushed the bandages on her arm. What was this peculiar sympathy he felt for her? Why was the strange connection he felt to her so deep and so compelling?

  There was no way to account for the tenderness he felt now. God help him, what if he’d been wrong about her?

  After a few moments of indecision, he reached to touch her hair. Her head was literally the only appropriate place he might safely touch her without causing her pain. He fingered a lock, then lightly smoothed her hair back from her shiny forehead.

  The faint flicker of her eyelids and the slight move of her head made him pause. But when he stroked her gently a second time, there was no response.

  “Get well, Caitlin Bodine,” he whispered gruffly. Something harsh and unforgiving in his heart finally relented. “Get well, then tell me about that day.”

  He lingered until the nurse stepped in and made him leave.

  The next afternoon, Reno came home from the hospital for a shower and fresh clothes. He took care of a little book work while he was there, but he was in a hurry to get back to the ICU. Lucky Reed caught him in the den as he was finishing up.

  “How’s Miz Caitlin?” The old cowhand’s weathered face was lined with concern. Reno had called him last night and again that morning, but that was hours ago now.

  Reno motioned for him to sit and Lucky eased himself onto one of the wing chairs. “Still unconscious when I left. The hospital hasn’t called with any change, so she must be the same.”

  Lucky gave him a searching look. “You gonna spend time up there with her?” As if he realized the question was forward, he added, “You bein’ the only close family she’s got left.” The statement told Reno what Lucky expected of Madison St. John.

  “Unless her cousin comes back early from New York.” Reno watched the old cowboy. He knew what was coming. He could tell by the determined glint in the old man’s eyes. Lucky glanced down at the floor for several moments as if collecting his thoughts, and Reno waited until Lucky’s gaze came up to his.

  “When Miz Caitlin was gone, there wasn’t much point in tryin’ to talk to you. You never seemed inclined to hear the whole story, and Jess would never’ve let her come home anyway.” He looked down to pinch the crease of the battered hat he held in his work-scarred hands. “She’s been back long enough for the two of you to settle your differences,” he said, then looked up again. “Have you?”

  Reno didn’t take offense at the question, though they both knew Lucky was out of line. “We’ve got more than differences between us.”

  Lucky shook his head. “You can fire me if you like, Boss, but if the two of you ain’t settled things, then I gotta speak up.”

  Suddenly restless, Reno leaned back in the swivel chair and rested his elbows on the chair arms. He respected the man’s age and good character too much to refuse to hear him out. “I heard your testimony.”

  “Yep, you did. But you didn’t hear the whole of it. I don’t reckon ol’ Jess woulda told you anything, if he could even tell the truth anymore.”

  Reno’s gaze narrowed on the cowhand’s face. “Are you saying Jess lied?”

  Lucky gave a nod. “Yessir, I am. Besides bein’ a spiteful man, he lied at the inquest about worryin’ over Miz Caitlin and goin’ out to search. Weren’t nobody out lookin’ for her. On top of which, there weren’t much Jess ever told about that girl that was the whole truth.” He shook his head. “Never made sense how he treated her, but he’s dead now. I figger it’s left to the livin’ to make things right.”

  The solemn pronouncement was the lead-in to a recitation of what Lucky had seen of Jess’s relationship with his only child. As Reno had begun to suspect, Jess had been anything but loving and kind to his daughter.

  Lucky moved into his account of what he’d seen at the canyon. But before he was halfway through, something he said—or rather something he left out—made Reno interrupt.

  “If Caitlin and Beau were both at the edge of the canyon and you could see that they both looked safe, why were you riding hell for leather to get to them?” Reno had never understood that part of what he knew, and now he wanted an answer.

  Lucky’s sudden reluctance to answer was plain in the way his gaze shifted from Reno’s. He looked uncomfortable.

  “Someone dies, it’s best to remember the good about ’em.”
<
br />   Everything in Reno came to full alert and he felt queasy suddenly. “Don’t speak ill of the dead?”

  Lucky didn’t look at him straight on. “That’s right. Not no point. The loved ones left behind got enough pain to face when someone that young gits killed. No sense puttin’ burdens on ’em that can jest as well go by.”

  Lucky fingered his hat brim again in the waiting silence before he went on.

  “I reckon we took the wrong course. Didn’t seem like the whole story needed to be told for the judge, since he was mainly interested in did she kill him or not.” Lucky’s eyes came up to his. “If we’d a-knowed how it would go for Miz Caitlin after, with you hatin’ her and Jess runnin’ her off, we woulda told it all then.”

  The level look the old man gave him was solemn and deeply convincing. Reno stared back, his insides a maelstrom of volatile emotions. His voice was hoarse with them.

  “Maybe you ought to tell it all now.” The moment he said the words, a sick feeling of intuition quivered over him. He knew instantly he would hear the truth.

  Lucky’s somber eyes showed a flicker of sympathy. “Then you need to know that Beau pulled Caitlin outta the water. He saved her life by throwin’ a rope on her and pullin’ her up. We didn’t see that part, but it was in Miz Caitlin’s testimony. When we saw them, she was on the bank with his rope on her, but he wasn’t takin’ it off and he wasn’t lettin’ her get on her feet.

  “I’d heard some of the things he’d been sayin’ to her lately when he thought nobody was around. Remarks a gentleman ought not make to a female.”

  Lucky stopped to let his words sink in, but he was watching Reno’s grim face closely.

  “Go on.”

  The old man’s reluctance showed in the way he hesitated over his next words.

  “Looked to me like he was goin’ to force himself on her. Don’t know how much he had in mind or if he was just teasin’ her again, but ever’ time she tried to get up, he’d use the rope to keep her down. That’s when we started ridin’ for the canyon.” Lucky’s discomfort was acute and he was pinching the crease of his hat mercilessly.

  “While he was doin’ that, he was backin’ toward the water like he was thinkin’ of tossin’ her back in. Once, he took hold of her boot like he was gonna drag her to it, but he let go. Then he went over to walk along the edge of the canyon, balancin’ himself like he was on a tightrope.” Lucky paused.

  “That was when the bank caved in. She was tryin’ to shove herself back ’cause there wasn’t much ground left under her legs, and Beau threw himself to grab onto her. He musta let go of the rope then.”

  There was silence again as the old man waited for him to take it in. Reno’s heart was heavy with grief, but his question carried a trace of defiance. “Did she kick him into the water?”

  Lucky’s gaze didn’t waver from his. “No, sir, she didn’t, not on purpose. Was a case of her makin’ a natural move back and him grabbin’ for her while she was movin’. Because they was right on the bend of the canyon where the water hit hardest, it took him at the same split second so he never coulda held on. Likely, he woulda pulled her in with him. Even if he’d still had a-hold of that rope he had on her, I don’t know that she coulda kept either one of them out of the water.”

  Reno looked down at the desk, numbed by it all, reliving the pain of Beau’s death, but with the added knowledge that Beau’s foolish antics on the very brink of the flooded canyon had caused his own death. And what had he meant to do to Caitlin? The answer shamed him.

  “And Caitlin tried to save him.” It was a statement, but Lucky answered.

  “Never seen anyone try harder. If we hadn’t of got there, she’d of kept tryin’ till she died with him. Her goin’ in the fire after that boy proves the stuff she’s made of.”

  Lucky paused several moments. Reno struggled with his thoughts and with the sharp guilt that slowly pounded deep into his chest. The guilt switched to agony when Lucky went on quietly.

  “Never heard a human bein’ make the kind of grief sound that girl made when we held her back from goin’ in after him. Was more like somethin’ wild was havin’ its heart tore out than a person. Much as she had against your brother, when it come down to it, none of it mattered.”

  Reno’s breath squeezed out of him in a spasm of pain so strong it made his eyes burn. His low “You’ve had your say,” was as much as he was capable of.

  He was reeling with the shock of it all. There was no question in his mind, everything Lucky had told him was the truth. And not just because Lucky was credible, but because somewhere in his heart he knew the old man’s account fit what he knew about Caitlin’s character and his brother’s.

  The bitter memory of the hateful things he’d said to Caitlin, everything he’d done, knotted his gut. Lucky’s gruff question tortured him.

  “Do the doctors think she’ll pull through?”

  Reno swiveled his chair slightly away from the old man. The evasive move was uncommon for him, but his conscience was pounding him and it was hard to speak. “The head injury is the biggest problem. The sooner she wakes up the better. They’re...cautious.”

  He was so focused on his thoughts, so preoccupied with what Lucky had told him and the guilty knowledge that his hatred had brutalized Caitlin, that he wasn’t aware when Lucky got up and quietly left the room.

  Caitlin was first aware of the pain. Her head pulsed with it. She tried to lift her hand in an instinctive move to soothe it, but the movement sent fire from her shoulder to her fingertips. Suddenly her whole body hurt and she wasn’t coherent enough to understand why. The faint sound of distress she heard was hoarse and it made her throat hurt. It was with some surprise that she realized the painful sound was coming out of her.

  “Caitlin Bodine?”

  The firm male voice got her attention and she tried to turn her face toward it. Bright sparks of agony streaked behind her closed eyelids, startling a gasp out of her that made her throat ache harder. A brief coughing spasm tore at her throat and chest, and the pain in her head was excruciating. It took a few moments of utter stillness to calm the pain.

  Her softly croaking “Hurts,” was all she could manage.

  “Okay, Caitlin, we’ll take care of it.”

  In seconds, she felt something spread through her that soothed the sharp edges of the pain and sent it away.

  A day later, a voice woke her. She carefully opened her eyes, defying the bright lights that made the task so painful. A shadow loomed over the side of the bed and she blinked to focus on it.

  “Are you awake?” The low words were gruff, and she instantly recognized Reno’s voice. Joy sang through her those first seconds until memory snuffed it out.

  Fire. There’d been a fire. And something else...the boy. She remembered the dangerous, terrifying search.

  “The boy—is he... alive?” She ignored the strange rasp of her voice in her anxiety to have an answer.

  “The boy’s fine. Home with his family.”

  Her relief was profound, and she was suddenly too weary to keep her eyes open. The blurriness was too much to overcome.

  Reno’s words “Thanks to you, he’s alive,” sent a tiny shaft of pleasure through her, but another memory made it freeze in her heart.

  I hope to God I never have to see your face again.

  The ache in her chest throbbed into her throat and made her head pound. She couldn’t take anymore, couldn’t bear to hear another hateful word. Her labored “Get away from me,” was little more than a pained whisper. She felt Reno lean closer.

  “It’s all right, baby.”

  The soothing words made it difficult to resist the craving for more that burst up and filled her heart with hope.

  But she’d never crave love again, she’d never hope for anything good to come her way. She’d lived twenty-three years on hunger and hope, but she was so weary of failure that she wouldn’t waste another second on either of those things.

  She gritted her teeth against the ag
ony in her heart. “I said, get away from me.”

  She felt Reno’s shock before a new voice intruded.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Duvall. Perhaps you can come back later.”

  Caitlin heard. Her eyelids were burning and her throat felt raw as she got out, “No. Don’t come back.”

  Agitation made her restless, but every small move she made hurt.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Duvall, you’ll have to leave.”

  A cool, unfamiliar hand touched her forehead and she sensed that the hand and the voice belonged to the person who’d suddenly stepped between her and Reno.

  His low “I’ll be back,” was a vow.

  Caitlin felt herself weaken. The moisture that soothed her burning eyelids streaked from the corners of her eyes into her hair as she heard his boot steps recede. She was too miserable to be relieved.

  She’d managed to make it clear to the nurses that she didn’t want Reno Duvall allowed in the ICU. If they were curious about that, they kept it to themselves. But then, Caitlin had been too weak to be aware of much because she’d slept every moment that their nursing schedule allowed. In another four days, Caitlin was moved to a private room on another floor.

  Though she didn’t seriously think anyone except Lucky and the others would care to visit her, she’d requested that no visitors be allowed into her private room, and that no one be given her room number. Nevertheless, get-well flower bouquets began to arrive. First from Reno, then one from Lucky, Bob and Tar, then one from Billy’s family. She called the ranch right away to speak to Lucky and thank him and the others for the flowers they’d sent, then followed up the call with a personal note to each of the three men. She sent a brief note of thanks to the Carnes, but she tried to ignore the roses Reno sent. She didn’t understand the gesture from him and tried not to think about it.

  Now that she was in a private room, she was allowed to sleep longer without interruption, and the constant fatigue that plagued her made avoiding sleep impossible. After two more days, some of her lighter bandages came off. She was able to walk short distances on the walking cast, but she tired in a frustratingly short period of time.