by Debra Cowan
Bram ground his teeth. He didn’t know if she still planned to teach in Abilene.
After supper she excused herself to help her mother clean up. She obviously intended to make sure he didn’t have a chance to talk to her.
Blood boiling, he thanked the women for the meal and stepped out into the fading sunset. Questions about Orr burned in his brain. Bram told himself he had no business asking her anything, no business wondering about the other man’s intentions. It didn’t stop him wanting to know.
He checked on Scout and the Blues’ mare, Addy, as well as their milk cow before he looked for signs that someone else might’ve been there. He found boot and hoofprints. The fact that they were on the road that led straight here from Whirlwind and back told Bram they belonged to Orr.
By the time he made one last pass around the house and the yard, night had settled in. He headed for the barn and the bunk that had been set up for him. Pulling his shirt over his head, he hung it on a peg beside one that held two bridles. He left his boots and pants on, then lay down.
On the other side of the barn wall, he heard the horses grazing. A puff of wind blew across Bram’s sweat-dampened chest and he shifted against the scratchy sheet at his back. The crickets seemed particularly noisy tonight. In the far distance, he thought he heard the howl of a coyote.
Moonlight filtered through a crack in the wall and he stared at it as the conversation at supper circled around in his head—as well as the fact that Deborah would barely look at him. When she finally had, it was as if he were a damn stranger. He guessed he practically was.
Bram wished he could just forget her the way she’d forgotten him.
He was about to doze off when a new sound from outside caught his attention. Propping himself up on one elbow, he listened hard, trying to identify it. The noise came from the direction of the house.
The creak of a board had him reaching for his Peacemaker and quietly getting to his feet. Thumbing down the hammer, he sidled up to the open doorway and peered right, then left. And froze.
Deborah stood on the stoop, resting against a porch column. Her face was tilted up toward the clear starry sky, her eyes closed. Silver light skimmed her delicate profile and the dark silky braid hanging down her back. His gaze moved over her slender curves, taking in her loosely belted wrapper, the pale cotton of her nightgown in the vee of the robe.
The slight breeze molded the lightweight fabric to her full breasts and flat belly, causing him to curl his free hand into a fist. A pair of fancy slippers peeped out from under the hem of her wrapper.
Why was she out here? Had she experienced another nightmare like the one she’d had at the cabin when he’d first found her?
It hit him that he had no idea if she’d had more bad dreams since returning home. He hadn’t asked. Tightness stretched across his chest.
Bram told himself to go back inside the barn, but he was already moving toward her. He released the hammer on his revolver. “Everything okay?”
She jumped, her eyes flying open, her hand going to her chest. “You scared the daylights out of me!” she whispered harshly.
“Sorry.” Closer now, he could see how the pale light turned her eyes a silvery-blue. And he could smell the clean musky scent of her skin beneath that of the
prairie grass.
“Are you okay?” he asked again.
“I’m fine.” She pulled the belt of her wrapper tight, taking a step back. Her gaze slid across his bare shoulders, lingered on his chest.
The flash of hunger in her eyes had his entire body going hard. He wanted to pin her against that column and kiss her silly. Instead, he focused on his original concern.
His attention locked on the pulse tapping frantically in her throat as he asked quietly, “Nightmare?”
Surprise flashed across her features. “Just...couldn’t sleep.”
“Neither could I.” What had kept her awake? It damn sure better not have been thoughts of Mitchell Orr.
She pushed away from the wood support post. “Good night.”
He should let her leave. He had every intention of doing just that; instead he stepped up on the porch, blocking her way. “Did you invite Orr out here?”
“What if I did?”
“Did you?” It drove Bram crazy to think so.
She glared. “As you reminded me last night, things between you and me are over.”
His jaw nearly snapped in two. “Did you?”
“No.”
The tension across his shoulders coiled tighter. He should drop it, but he couldn’t seem to shut up. “What in the Sam Hill could you possibly talk about with him for two hours?”
“He asked if you and I were courting.”
Bram stilled. “What did you tell him?”
“I started to say no. Absolutely not.” Her voice was like velvet-covered steel as she stared him square in the eye. “But I recalled that he did see us together in town.”
Bram was glad for that. Whether he should or not, he didn’t want Mitchell or any other man sniffing around her.
“When he saw Duffy helping Mother with some chores, he asked if you’d sent him here. Mitchell offered to lend a hand so Duffy could go home.”
Bram knew good and well Orr would have lent a lot more than that, given the chance. “What else did he offer?”
Her mouth flattened. “He asked if he could take me for a drive sometime.”
“Well, he can’t.” The words shot out of Bram’s mouth so fast, he was surprised they didn’t burn his tongue. Savage emotion knotted his gut. Emotion he had no place feeling.
She angled her chin in that stubborn way she had, the action so much like her old self that he blinked.
“Not that it’s your place to dictate anything,” she reminded him coolly. “But I told him I wasn’t sure.”
“You can’t go unless one of my men or I go with you.”
“I believe that would defeat the purpose.” The sweetness in her voice belied the sharpness of her gaze.
The thought that the other man might get her alone and try to kiss her or touch her or do anything Bram was aching to do made his finger twitch on the trigger. “It’s not safe.”
“He’s not a danger.”
“He’s not the one I’m worried about. It’s Cosgrove.”
“Which is all that matters, isn’t it?”
His eyes narrowed. “To your safety, yes.”
“To your revenge,” she snapped. Pulse beating frantically in her throat, she curled her hands into fists. “Don’t pretend the reason you’re concerned about Cosgrove is because you care about me.”
He did care, dammit, and wished he didn’t. Still, he didn’t want to hurt her again, although apparently he had. He could see pain in her eyes right now. “Deborah—”
“I’m as ready for this to be over as you are.” Her voice cracked as she moved past him and let herself back into the house.
The soft scuff of her slippers faded. He wanted to slam his fist into the wall. After a moment, the haze of anger cleared and Bram headed back to the barn, biting off a curse.
He was the one who had put this distance between them and she was giving him exactly what he wanted. Didn’t mean he had to like it.
* * *
She was Bram’s bait for a trap. Nothing else.
Deborah repeated that to herself a hundred times over the next several days. Sometimes she sensed more between them, a connection. The truth was they didn’t
really have one.
He wanted distance. She’d given it to him. Which meant he had no business asking her questions about Mitchell Orr or any other man.
She had been careful to have only minimal contact with him. Still, she hadn’t stopped thinking about that kiss they had shared.
No. It seem
ed that was one thing she couldn’t forget.
You may have forgotten what happened between us, but I haven’t.
The words still stung. She should be glad he was making it so easy for her to stay away from him. Even so, he had given no sign that he even noticed she was avoiding him. That was fine with her.
A week after their midnight discussion on the back stoop, she woke just before dawn and dressed, then headed out to the barn to milk Bossy. The cow stayed in one of the far stalls, so Deborah intended to use the back entrance in case Bram had risen. She had no desire to see him.
It wasn’t until she was feet away from the barn that she realized milking was one of her normal chores. She had automatically gotten up and dressed, grabbed the pail from beside the sink and come outside.
Another memory! She wondered who had taken over the duty. As glad as she was for another small piece of her past, Deborah wanted to remember something significant like her life or what she’d been doing with Cosgrove.
The golden light of a lantern glowed inside the barn. As she reached the open doorway, she heard her sister’s halting voice.
“Th-thank you.”
Deborah smiled. Was Michal thanking the cow? On the rare occasion when Bossy became vexed, Deborah had sometimes talked to the animal, she remembered.
Just as she started to tease her sister, a deliciously sleep-husky masculine voice said, “It’s not a problem.”
Bram. She froze, peering carefully around the door frame into the barn. He was leaning over the cow’s back talking to her sister, whose boot-shod feet and plain tan skirts she could see beneath the animal.
“Until Deborah remembers, I can help you.”
Help with what? She should make her presence known or leave, but she couldn’t make herself do either when she heard his next words.
“Milking is Deborah’s chore, isn’t it?”
“Y-yes, b-but I don’t mind.”
“How are things going with all of you and your sister?”
What did he care? Deborah thought hotly.
“F-fine.”
“You still wanting to work for Josie in her sewing shop?”
“Yes, b-but I...I—”
“Take your time, Michal,” Bram encouraged softly. “The way Deborah taught you.”
She stilled. What had she taught her sister? Something to help her stuttering?
After a long moment the other woman said slowly, “I...want...to work there, but I...will put off the customers.”
Deborah’s heart squeezed hard.
“What does Josie say?” Bram asked.
“S-she doesn’t think so.”
“I’ll help you practice.”
“Y-you will?”
He would? Deborah inched closer to the doorway, aware of the smells of earth and hay and animal flesh. Thank goodness Bram wore a shirt. She hadn’t forgotten the sight of that wide bare chest and she would just as soon her sister not be treated to the same image.
“Sure, I’ll help.”
Deborah could hear a smile in his voice.
“I know Deborah used to work with you. I don’t mind doing it until she’s ready to take it up again.”
“Thank you.”
Yes, thank you. Deborah was grateful, although this wasn’t helping to keep her guard up with him.
“What services do you offer in the sewing shop?”
A pause. “Everything from...”
Bram waited patiently.
The younger woman continued, “Making complete garments to mending.”
“That was good. Do you replace buttons?”
“Yes.”
“Ever made a man’s coat before?”
Another pause. “I’m...making one for my brother for Christmas. It’s a surprise. Don’t...tell.”
“Promise. How long would it take you to make me a couple of shirts?”
Deborah’s chest swelled with emotion.
“Two days,” Michal said. “If you’re willing to pay extra.”
Bram laughed, sending a shaft of pure warmth through her.
This was the man she’d fallen in love with. Deborah knew it deep inside. The realization that he was also the man she had planned to leave sobered her.
“You wouldn’t sew someone’s sleeves closed so a body couldn’t get their arms through, would you?” he asked her sister.
What? Deborah’s eyes widened.
“That was...years ago,” Michal answered. “I only did that to Jericho because he wouldn’t take me to town with him.”
“He still likes telling the story.”
Michal laughed. “I guess it’s kind of funny.”
“It is,” Bram said warmly.
It hurt to hear the two of them share a memory she didn’t have, and Deborah admitted to a little resentment. Still, the sting was lessened by what Bram was doing for her sister.
“Do you think you and Deborah might ever patch things up?” Michal asked quietly.
Deborah’s heart kicked hard. Probably not if he had his way. She waited for him to laugh harshly or snap at her sister.
Instead, his voice was low with regret. “I don’t know, kiddo.”
A painful lump rose in her throat and she blinked back tears.
Michal said, “I wouldn’t mind having another brother.”
He gave an exaggerated groan. “I’m not sure I’m up for three more sisters on top of the females I’ve already got at home.”
The knot in Deborah’s throat spread to her chest and she eased back against the barn wall, fighting resentment and sadness.
The pounding of hooves made her look up. Though the pink light of dawn told her it was probably Amos coming to relieve Bram, her pulse spiked anyway—then took off racing when Bram appeared in the barn doorway.
Weapon in hand, muscles coiled, he had his gun aimed at her. She gasped and he immediately lowered the revolver.
Expecting him to dismiss her, she was surprised when he didn’t, though his gaze clearly questioned why she stood there.
“I heard a horse.” His eyes narrowed on her. “Were you eavesdropping?”
“Yes.” She curled her fingers tightly over the milk pail’s handle. “I— Thank you.”
“For what?”
His gruff voice sent a shiver through her. “For being kind to my sister.”
He stared at her for a long moment, his hot gaze trailing down her body. It was the first time in a week that the chill in his eyes had thawed. Deborah fought the urge to move nearer.
“You’re welcome,” he said gruffly.
There it was again. The closeness she’d felt to him the other night. Right on its heels came a sudden flutter of panic.
She was falling for him all over again and that was the worst thing that could happen. Because the connection Deborah felt to Bram might be new to her, but it was over for him.
* * *
That afternoon, Bram was being tossed and yanked around on the back of a black-and-white paint he was saddle breaking. Sweat trickled down the side of his face and he could feel the late-day heat roasting his back as if he wore no shirt.
The horse twisted and reared, trying every awkward angle she could to throw him. The muscles in his arms burned and the strain worked through his legs as he fought to keep his seat. His teeth snapped together every time the mare threw back her head with a powerful lunge of her body.
He barely managed to avoid getting his leg crushed when she tried to slam him into the side of the corral. Together with his brother, he had been working with the mare for over a week.
Finally she began to calm, bucking only occasionally. In a low voice, he said, “Whoa.” He matched the directive with a smooth pressure on the reins.
On
ce the mare stilled, he walked her around the corral until she responded immediately to his commands and the pressure of his knees.
When he finally dismounted, she stood quietly as he ran a hand down her sweat-soaked neck and slipped the bridle over her head.
The horse’s sides heaved just as Bram’s did. Her black-and-white hide was dark with perspiration. As battered as he was, he still didn’t feel as bruised as he did any time he looked at Deborah.
She thought all he cared about was revenge on Cosgrove. That should’ve been all he cared about, but if that were the case, he wouldn’t want her clear to his back teeth.
And he wouldn’t still be thinking about apologizing for telling her he’d kissed her only because she had asked. His conscience had gotten all stirred up this morning when she had thanked him for being kind to Michal.
Pushing away the thoughts, Bram dragged off the paint’s saddle and blanket. She tossed her head and wheeled sharply, loping to the far corner of the corral. Hefting the saddle and tack over his shoulder, he let himself out, shut the gate and returned everything to its place in the barn. Then he headed for the pump.
After carrying a pail of water to the horse, Bram removed his hat and peeled off his shirt. Holding a piece of toweling in the same hand he used to operate the pump, he stuck his head under the cool gush of water.
Ever since their heated discussion on the back porch, he had been careful not to spend much time with her. He needed to let her go. That’s what he had to do.
After a good dousing, he released the handle. He grabbed the towel and wiped his face, then rubbed the cloth over his head to dry his hair.
A low quiet voice sounded behind him. “Ross.”
Bram turned to see Deborah’s brother, Jericho. Holding the reins of his Appaloosa mare, the man stood there with a scowl on his stern features. The former Texas Ranger was tall, lean and deadly with a gun, despite one lame hand.
Bram shoved his wet hair back with one hand, offering the other. They shook hands. “Didn’t know you were back from New York.”
“We arrived last night.”