by Nora Roberts
“If Barker had it, he’d have seen you got it back.”
He didn’t care for the direction his thoughts were taking.
“You sure it got this far? Mail gets lost.”
“Oh, yes. He wrote me after he received it. Liza also mentioned that my father had been rather taken with it and had brought it into the store to show around.”
“Might turn up.”
“I suppose.” She shrugged. “I’ve given this place a thorough cleaning, but I might not have come across it. I’ll look again when Lucius puts in the floor.” “What floor?”
“The wooden floor. I’ve ordered boards.” She broke off a bite of biscuit. “Actually, I ordered extra. I have my heart set on a real bedroom. Out the west wall, I think. My sewing money’s coming in very handy.”
“Sarah, last night you said something about Carlotta telling you I’d given her some idea about having you sew for her.” He watched her stiffen up immediately. “When did you talk to her?”
“I didn’t. I have no intention of talking to that woman.”
He rolled his tongue into his cheek. He doubted Sarah would be pleased to know that her tone amused him. “Where did you hear that from?”
“Alice Johnson. She works in…that place. Apparently Carlotta had her drive out here to negotiate for my services.”
“Alice?” He cast his mind back, juggling faces with names. “She’s the little one-dark hair, big eyes?”
Sarah drew in a quiet, indignant breath. “That’s an accurate description. You seem to know the staff of the Silver Star very well.”
“I don’t know as I’d call them staff, but yeah, I know one from the other.”
Rising, she snatched up his empty plate. “And I’m sure they know you quite well.” When he just grinned, she had to fight back the urge to knock the look off his face with the cast-iron skillet. “I’ll thank you to stop smirking at me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” But he went right on. “You sure are pretty when you get fired up.”
“If that’s a compliment,” she said, wishing it didn’t make her want to smile, “you’re wasting your breath.”
“I ain’t much on compliments. But you’re pretty, and that’s a fact. I guess you’re about the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Especially when you’re riled.”
“Is that why you continue to go out of your way to annoy me?”
“I expect. Come here.”
She smoothed down her skirt. “I will not.”
He rose slowly. “You’re ornery, too. Can’t figure why it appeals to me.” He dragged her to him. After a moment’s feigned struggle, she laughed up at him. “I’ll have to remember to stay ornery and annoyed, then.”
He said nothing. The way she’d looked up at him had knocked the breath out of his body. He pulled her closer, holding on, wishing. Content, Sarah nuzzled his shoulder. Before he could draw her back, she framed his face with her hands and brushed her lips over his.
“You’re still tying me up in knots,” he muttered.
“That’s good. I don’t intend to stop.”
He stepped back, then gripped her hands with his.
“Which one did he kiss?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Carlson.” She gave a surprised gasp when his fingers tightened on hers. “Which hand did he kiss?”
Sarah kept her eyes on his. “Both.”
She watched the fury come then, and was amazed at how quickly, how completely, he masked it. But it was still there. She could feel it rippling through him.
“Jake-”
He shook his head. Then, in a gesture that left her limp, he brought her hands to his lips. Then he dropped them, obviously uncomfortable, and dug his own hands into his pockets.
“I don’t want you to let him do it again.”
“I won’t.”
Her response should have relaxed him, but his tension doubled. “Just like that?”
“Yes, just like that.”
He turned away and began to pace. Her brow lifted. She realized she’d never before seen him make an unnecessary movement. If he took a step, it was to go toward or away.
“I’ve got no right.” There was fury in his voice. The same kind she heard outside the tent the night before. In contrast, hers was soft and soothing. “You have every right. The only right. I’m in love with you.”
Now he didn’t move at all. He froze as a man might when he heard a trigger cocked at the back of his head. She simply waited, her hands folded at her waist, her eyes calm and clear.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he managed at last.
“Of course I do, and so do you.” With her eyes on his, she walked to him. “Do you think I could have been with you as I was last night, this morning, if I didn’t love you?”
He stepped back before she could touch him. It had been so long since he’d been loved that he’d forgotten what it could feel like. It filled him like a river, and its currents were strong.
“I’ve got nothing for you, Sarah. Nothing.”
“Yourself.” She reached a hand to his cheek. “I’m not asking for anything.”
“You’re mixing up what happened last night with-”
“With what?” she challenged. “Do you think because you were the first man that I don’t know the difference between love and…lust? Can you tell me it’s been like that for you before, with anyone? Can you?”
No, he couldn’t. And he couldn’t tell her it would never be that way with anyone but her. “Lucius will be back soon,” he said instead. “I’ll go down and get the water you wanted before I leave.”
And that was all? she thought. Damn him for turning his back on her again. He didn’t believe her, she thought. He thought she was just being foolish and romantic… But no, no, that wasn’t right, she realized. That wasn’t it at all.
It came to her abruptly and with crystalline clarity. He did believe her, and that was why he had turned away. He was as frightened and confused by her love as she -had been by the land. It was just as foreign to him. Just as difficult to understand and accept. She could change that. Taking a long, cleansing breath, she turned to her dishes. She could change that in the same way she had changed herself. She embraced the land now, called it her own. One day he would do the same with her.
She heard the door open again, and she turned, smiling.
“Jake-”
But it was Burt Donley who filled the doorway.
Chapter Eleven
“Where’s Redman?”
Panic came first, and it showed in her wide, wild eyes. She was still holding the skillet, and she had one mad thought of heaving it at his head. But his hand was curled over the butt of his gun. She saw in his eyes what she had never seen in Jake’s, what she realized she’d never seen in any man’s, not even in those of the Apache who had kidnapped her. A desire, even an eagerness, to kill.
He stepped inside, and through the thickness of his beard she saw that he was smiling. “I asked you, Where’s Redman?”
“He’s not here.” It surprised her how calm a voice could sound even when a heart was pounding. She had a man to protect. The man she loved. “I don’t believe I asked you in.”
His smile widened into a grin. “You ain’t going to tell me he brought you all the way out here last night and then left a pretty thing like you all alone?”
She was terrified Jake would come back. And terrified he wouldn’t. She had no choice but to hold her ground. “I’m not telling you anything. But as you can see, I’m alone.”
“I can see that, real plain. Funny, ‘cause his horse is in town and he ain’t.” He picked up a biscuit from the bowl on the table with his wide, blunt-edged fingers, studied it, then bit in. “Word is he spends time out here.”
“Mr. Redman occasionally visits. I’ll be sure to tell him you were looking for him, if and when I see him.” “You do that. You be sure and do that.” He took another bite, chewing slowly, watching her.
“Good day, then.”
But he didn’t leave. He only walked closer.
“You’re prettier than I recollect.”
She moistened her lips, knowing they were trembling.
“I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“No, but I’ve seen you.” She strained backward when he put a hand to her hair. “You don’t favor your pa none.”
“You’ll have to excuse me.” She tried to step to the side, but he blocked her.
“He sure did set some store by you. A man can see why.” He pushed the rest of the biscuit into his mouth, chewing as he reached down to toy with the small bow at her collar. “Too bad he got himself killed over that mine and left you orphaned. Smart man would’ve kept himself alive. Smart man would’ve seen the sense in that.”
She shifted again, and was again blocked. “He could hardly be blamed for an accident.”
“Maybe we’ll talk about that later.” Enjoying her trembling, he tugged the little bow loose. “You look smarter than your pa was.”
Lafitte burst in, snarling. Donley had his hand on the butt of his gun when Sarah grabbed his arm. “No, please. He’s hardly more than a puppy.” Moving quickly, she gathered the growling dog up. “There’s no need for you to hurt him. He’s harmless.”
“Donley likes killing harmless things.” Jake spoke from the doorway. The men stood ten feet apart, Jake backed by sun, Donley by shadow. “There was a man in Laramie-more of a boy, really. Daniel Little Deer was harmless, wasn’t he, Donley?”
“He was a breed.” Donley’s teeth gleamed through his beard. “I don’t think no more of killing a breed than a sick horse.”
“And it’s easier when it’s back-shooting.”
“I ain’t shooting at your back, Redman.”
“Move aside, Sarah.”
“Jake, please-”
“Move aside.” He was over the sick fear he’d felt when he’d seen Donley’s horse outside the house. He was cold, killing-cold. His guns hung low on his hips, and his hands were limber and ready.
Donley shifted, settling his weight evenly. “I’ve waited a long time for this.”
“Some of us get lucky,” Jake murmured, “and wait a long time to die.”
“When I’ve killed you, I’m going to have the woman, and the gold.” His hand slapped the butt of his gun. The.44 was aimed heart-high. He was fast.
The sound of a gunshot exploded, ripping through the still morning air. Sarah watched in horror as Donley stumbled, forward, then back. A red stain spread across his shirt and his leather vest before he fell by the stone hearth and lay still.
Jake stood in the doorway, his face expressionless, his mind calm and cold. He’d never once felt the rush some men spoke of that came from killing. To him it was neither power nor curse. It was survival.
“Oh, God.” Pressed back against the wall, Sarah stared. Lafitte leaped out of her limp arms to crouch, growling, by Donley’s gun hand. Her vision grayed, wavered, then snapped back when Jake gripped her arms.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No, I-”
“Get outside.”
Hysteria bubbled up in her throat. A man was dead, lying dead on her floor, and the one holding her looked like a stranger. “Jake-” “Get outside,” he repeated, doing his best to shield her from the man he’d killed. “Go on into the shed or down to the stream.” When she only continued to stare, he pulled her to the door and shoved her out. “Do what I tell you.”
“What-what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to take him into town.”
Giving in to weakness, she leaned on the rail, dragging in gulps of the hot, dusty air as though it were water. “What will they do to you? You killed him.” “Barker’ll take me at my word. Or he’ll hang me.” “No, but-” Nausea was churning now, coating her skin with a thin, clammy sweat. “He wanted to kill you. He came looking for you.”
“That’s right.” He took both her arms again because he wanted her to look at him, really look. “And tomorrow, next week, next month, there’ll be someone else who comes looking for me. I got fast hands, Sarah, and somebody’s always going to want to prove they got faster. One day they’ll be right.”
“You can change. It can change. It has to.” She struggled out of his hold, only to throw her arms around him. “You can’t want to live this way.”
“What I want and what is have always been two different things.” He pushed her away. “I care about you.” It was easy to mean it, hard to say it. “That’s why I’m telling you to walk away.”
He’d just killed a man in front of her eyes. And killed him coldly. Even through her horror she’d seen that. But it hadn’t left him untouched. What she saw now was the frustration and anger of a man caught in a trap. He needed someone to offer him a way out, or at least the hope of one. If she could do nothing else, she could give him hope.
“No.” She stepped forward to frame his face with her hands. “I can’t. I won’t.”
Her hands were trembling. Cold and trembling, he thought as he reached for them. “You’re a damn fool.”
“Yes. I’m quite sure you’re right. But I love you.” He couldn’t have begun to tell her what it did to him inside when she said that. When he looked into her eyes and saw that she meant it. He pulled her against him for a rough, hungry kiss. “Go away from the house. I don’t want you here when I bring him out.”
She nodded, took a long breath and stepped back. The sickness had passed, though the raw feeling inside remained. “Once I was sure there was only right and wrong, and that to kill another person was the greatest wrong. But there isn’t only right and wrong, Jake. What you did, what you had to do, kept you alive. There’s nothing more important to me than that.” She paused and touched his hand. “Come back.”
He watched her, as he had watched her once before, start up the rise to her father’s grave. When she was gone, he went back inside.
Two days passed, and Sarah tried to follow her daily routine and not to wonder why Jake hadn’t ridden back to her. It seemed everyone else had paid her a visit, but not Jake. Barker had come out and, in his usual take-your-time way, questioned her about Burt Donley. It seemed no more than a token investigation to Sarah. Barker, either because he was lazy or because he was a shrewd judge of character, had taken Jake at his word.
The story had spread quickly. Soon after Barker, Liza and Johnny had driven up to hear the details and eat oatmeal cookies. Before she had left, Liza had chased Johnny outside to pester Lucius so that she could spend an hour talking about Will and her upcoming wedding. She was to have a new dress, and she had already ordered the pink silk and the pattern from Santa Fe.
The following morning, the sound of a rider approaching had Sarah rushing out of the chicken coop, eggs banging dangerously against each other in the basket she carried. She struggled to mask her disappointment when she saw Samuel Carlson.
“Sarah.” He dismounted quickly, and would have taken her hand, but she used both to grip the handle of the basket. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“There’s no need.” She smiled as he tied-his horse at the rail.
“I was shocked to learn that Donley and Redman had drawn guns right here in your house. It’s a miracle you weren’t injured.”
“I’m sure I would have been if Jake hadn’t come back when he did. Donley was…very threatening.” “I feel responsible.”
“You?” She stopped in front of the house.
“Why?”
“Donley worked for me. I knew what kind of man he was.” There was a grimness around his eyes and mouth as he spoke. “I can’t say I had any trouble with him until Redman came back to town.”
“It was Donley who sought Jake out, Samuel.” Her voice sharpened with the need to defend him. “It was he who deliberately provoked a fight. I was there.” “Of course.” He laid a soothing hand on her arm. Manners prevented him from stepping inside the house without an invitation. He was shrewd enough to see that someth
ing had changed, and that he wouldn’t get one. “I detest the fact that you were forced to witness a killing, and in your own home. It must distress you to stay here now.”
“No.” She glanced over her shoulder. It had been difficult, the first time she had gone inside afterward.
There were still traces of dried blood in the dirt, the sight of which had given Johnny ghoulish pleasure.
But it was her home. “I’m not as frail as that.”
“You’re a strong woman, Sarah, but a sensitive one.
I’m concerned about you.”
“It’s kind of you to be. Your friendship is a great comfort to me.”
“Sarah.” He touched a gentle hand to her cheek. “You must realize that I want to be much more than your friend.”
“I know.” Regret was in her eyes, in her voice.
“It’s not possible, Samuel. I’m sorry.”
She saw the anger mar his face, and was surprised by the depth of it before he brought it under control again. “It’s Redman, isn’t it?”
She felt it would be dishonorable, and insulting, to lie to him. “Yes.”
“I thought you were more sensible, Sarah. You’re an intelligent, gently bred woman. You must understand that Redman is a dangerous man, a man without scruples. He lives by violence. It’s part of him.” She smiled a little. “He describes himself the same way. I believe you’re both wrong.”
“He’ll only hurt you.”
“Perhaps, but I can’t change my feelings. Nor do I wish to.” Regret had her reaching out to touch his arm. “I’m sorry, Samuel.”
“I have faith that in time you’ll get over this infatuation. I can be patient.”
“Samuel, I don’t-”
“Don’t distress yourself.” He patted her hand.
“Along with patience, I have confidence. You were meant to belong to me, Sarah.” He stepped back to untie his horse. Inside, he was boiling with rage. He wanted this woman, and what belonged to her-and he intended to have them, one way or the other. When he turned to stand beside his mount with his reins in his hands, his face was touched only with affection and concern. “This doesn’t change the fact that I worry about you, living out here all alone.” “I’m not alone. I have Lucius.”