Canyon Song
Page 21
He must get up and out that window! He had to climb outside to the fresh air! Black splotches filled his vision, even though his eyes remained closed tight. Still coughing, he struggled to regain his feet. Oh, God. Were the men who’d set this fire still out there? No choice but to climb through and find out.
As he grabbed the bottom of the broken window, jagged glass teeth sliced his fingers. Ignoring pain and pumping blood, he pulled himself through the opening, praying he was not escaping into the sights of waiting guns.
* * *
“You look different in your friend’s clothes.”
Anna jumped at the sound of Quinn’s voice. She’d been sitting on the bed, pulling off her boots, her mind swirling with misgivings. She wanted to be home now in the canyon, where she could wear her own clothes and speak only in soft Spanish to those who came to her for peace.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you,” he apologized, then turned back to his kitchen rummaging.
“I feel different, too. Except for these,” she answered, nodding toward the boots, which lacked the slightest hint of femininity. “They’re out of place, like me.”
Quinn shook his head, frustrated. “Damn, Max could at least have left us some food.”
“Are you trying to pretend you cook?”
He shrugged. “Usually, I eat at the boardinghouse, but I was hoping Max planned to try his hand.”
Giving up the search, he walked over and stared down where she was sitting. Her stomach fluttered, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose, as if her body recognized the danger in his gaze.
She knew that look, and she should stop this. Stop this before it became too hard to say goodbye.
“You don’t look out of place,” he said. Reaching down, he fingered the scarf’s edge, then let it slide off of her hair. “You belong here, in my bed, with me.”
Her heart pounded at his nearness, thundered at his touch. She struggled to keep her words steady and her voice strong. “I doubt that Cameron would see it that way, if what you think is right.”
He shrugged. “Maybe we should find a new bed then, in a new town. Let Max keep his promotion.”
“You would run away, then, from your responsibilities?” Just like her father had always run away from his. It must be the gambler in them, always imagining the next town offered better odds. Disappointment seeped down through her bones. She had so hoped he’d changed. But at least it kept her from wanting him so badly, from falling into the same trap she’d fallen into the last time she had trusted too much.
Quinn shook his head and pulled a star-shaped piece of metal from his shirt pocket.
“Cameron rigged my first election. I’m almost sure of it. Otherwise, who’d have voted for a hard-luck card cheat?” As he spoke, he turned the item over in his hands. “But when I won, I took an oath. I didn’t give it much thought at first. I listened to Cameron, and I collected my pay, trying to save money to help my family Back East.”
Each time he flipped the silver badge, it winked reflected light.
Anna said nothing, but her stomach tightened with dread. Something bad was coming. She heard it in his words, saw it in the grim set of his jaw, the swift, metallic flashes. Her breaths came quick and shallow, and she wanted more than anything for him to stop. But she knew he had to finish, just as she couldn’t have stopped telling him about the child they had made.
Quinn sat beside her on the mattress. “When I found out they were dead, the money didn’t matter anymore.”
He must have seen the question, the horror in her eyes, for he elaborated.
“They burned — my mother, sisters, and my uncle, in a tenement fire in New York.” One of his hands closed around the badge; the other came to rest on her knee.
Burned, she thought, for the first time completely understanding what she’d done to him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Useless words that offered nothing. There had to be something better she could say. “I’m so very sorry. I never meant to hurt —”
“— Shhh.” He put a finger to her lips. “It was my fault for not taking care of things before then. I can see that now. And bad luck, too. You didn’t set that fire.”
“But I —” Her vision swam with tears.
“— You’re a different woman now, and I’ve changed, too. Hating you, even hating Cameron couldn’t solve things. Hating only emptied me, except . . .” His palm flattened, and he looked down at the badge. “Except this helped, a little. I’ve started to see the meaning in that oath I took. I promised to uphold the law. But not Ward Cameron’s version. I was wrong to turn a blind eye toward what he did, but I was too dead inside to care. A dying child brought me back — a dying child and you. Now I see the real law behind those fancy court words. It’s what protects the people from savages like Hamby and his boys.”
Santa Maria, she’d misjudged him badly. Her heart swelled with both hope and fear. Fear that her feelings were entangling her, binding her to him. “Then you won’t run?”
“Depends on what you mean by that, Anna. I mean to leave this town once I’m done, but I won’t run from Hamby. I won’t rest until that sick bastard’s in the ground.”
Another fear grew inside her, and she gripped the hand that held the badge. “At first, all I wanted was to get those men out of my canyon, so I could go back home,” she admitted. “But I’m afraid now. They’ve killed so many people. Before, they almost killed you. If you go back, maybe they’ll finish what they started.”
And I don’t want you to die. The thought echoed her words, but she could not speak them aloud. Not without making him promises she didn’t want to give.
“I’ll take Max and a posse. They won’t catch me unaware this time.”
She nodded, fighting the temptation to beg him not to go. Quinn had to take care of these outlaws, just as she had to use her healing gift. She could almost hear Señora Valdez’s whispered admonition, Let him be who he must . . .
But she didn’t have to like it, and she refused to simply wait.
“I’m going with you, then.”
“You’re staying here, in this house, safe and out of sight.”
She shook her head, refusing to relent. “There is no safe. Your deputy could be talking now to Cameron. If you’d trusted him, you would have told him more.”
“He’s not going to talk with Cameron this late tonight. And I’ll get Max out of town tomorrow before he has the chance. You’re better off here.”
“But you can’t be sure about Max, can you? Besides, you need a guide. If Hamby and his men have left my cabin, I can show you the places where they’d go. I know the canyon.”
“You didn’t listen to me back there before, and it could have cost your life. I don’t want to have to worry about tying you to some horse to keep you safe.”
“Ryan, you keep forgetting. I’m not your responsibility.”
He used his thumb to stroke her hand. The caress sent pleasure rippling through her, quieting her fears and reminding her of other touches, other times. Times she didn’t want to think about right now.
“Too late, Anna.” Quinn lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them one by one. His stubbly whiskers tickled her fingertips. “Of course I’m responsible for you. I already told Max we were married. You trying to make a liar out of me?”
“I’m years too late for that.”
“Aren’t you just the pot that called the kettle black? You’re a gifted bluffer, Anna. You missed your calling at the gaming tables.”
She knew he was joking, but still, a familiar pang jabbed through her. “My father was the gambler of the family. It didn’t serve him well.”
He put the badge down on the table and then stroked her cheek. “Tell me.”
His voice was quiet, just a whisper louder than the thudding of her heart. She stared into his eyes. If he could explain to her about his family, if he could forgive her, she could manage this.
“After Mother died when I was five, he started wageri
ng. To help him relax, he told Grandmother. He used to leave me with her, sometimes for days on end. Then he stopped coming back at all.” The old hurt throbbed now in earnest, but somehow she sensed that telling him would help.
“How could he leave, after you’d just lost your mother?”
“I wondered that a lot of years myself,” she told him. “But after Grandmother died, he finally came back. I was fifteen then, my head so full of silly dreams. I was going to be a star, and I was happy. Father did love me, no matter what Grandmother said. He’d come back for me after all.”
She shook her head, remembering how foolish she had been. “But I wasn’t what he wanted. His dead mother’s money drew him back. He gambled it away: her bank accounts, her furniture and jewelry, and finally her house. We started running afterward, but every time he earned a little, some two-bit card sharp would appear to convince him that this time, he had a chance.”
Quinn grimaced, and she wondered if he was thinking of all the times he’d used those very words.
“Father was a charmer, but he was a weak man, too. When he couldn’t outrun his creditors any longer, he stepped off a bed into a noose. I found him . . .” She closed her eyes against the images of nine year’s past. “I found him . . . hanging. . . This time, he wasn’t ever coming back.”
She still recalled it vividly: the rope’s grim creak as it stretched tight over the attic beam in that filthy boarding house, the slow swing of his socked feet before her eyes, her utter inability to look up to see the rest . . . She closed her eyes as if she might squeeze back those memories.
Quinn held her tight against him. “Is that what you’re afraid of, that if I leave, I won’t return?”
She bobbed her head, bumping his shoulder with her chin. “I’m afraid that if I want you to come back too much . . . it won’t happen, or if you do come, it will turn out all wrong anyway.”
“Why would you think that? I am not your father, Anna. I love you so much.”
“But after all that happened, after what I did —”
“— I’ve asked you before. Why can’t you forgive yourself?”
Accept it, something whispered. Accept forgiveness and move on. She sighed. “How am I ever going to stop apologizing?”
Maybe we’ll just have to think of some way to keep you quiet when you do.”
He kissed her then, and that fast, her darkness lifted, as if he’d lit a wick. She let him prize her jaws apart with the gentlest flicking of his tongue. A fire settled in her mouth as they kissed, sending hot spark showers cascading down her breasts and further still, to that place that deepest craved his warmth . . . his touch . . . his length.
He tugged at the deep neckline of the blusa, loosening it until his mouth and tongue could sooth the aching tightness of her nipples. She moaned with relief and let him push her back onto the pillows. His left hand cupped a breast, but the other soon breached the skirt’s hemline. His fingers danced along the sensitive flesh inside her knee.
“You should wear your friend’s clothes more often,” Quinn whispered.
“Why? You’ll just — try — to charm me out — of them.” Gasps broke Anna’s voice as his right hand swept ever higher. She closed her eyes, caught up in a delirious swirl of sensation.
Quinn gave each breast a last moist kiss before she felt a swish of unfamiliar skirts around her legs. Her eyelids shot open when his stubbled cheek brushed the inside of her thigh.
“Dios mio!” Anna cried. “What are you doing down there, Ryan?”
“Why don’t you lie back and see?” came the shrouded answer.
She could swear she heard the lazy smile in his voice.
Anna wanted to tell him he must stop, wanted to say that if he continued, their inevitable parting would rend both their hearts to shreds.
But instead she traced the progress of his whiskered kisses to that place beyond which she lost all control. And soon, instead of worrying about their parting, she counted the long, sweet moments until their bodies slid together, until he filled her physically the way his presence filled her heart.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Copper Ridge
April 11,1884
Judge Cameron checked his pocket watch and took a cuernito from the plate Elena offered. Ignoring her, he spoke instead to his new wife. “I’m sorry I won’t be available to drive you to the station, but Elena’s cousin, Manuel, is a fine, honest young man. I’ve left him the phaeton and the team.”
Lucy could barely look him in the eye. Once again last night, he had come upon her like an ancient plague. Once again he managed to convince himself she enjoyed his crude intrusions.
“I’m due to try a couple of cases in Broken Fork. Nothing that should take too long — maybe four days with the travel. Roy Hadley’s riding there with me this morning. He’s wants to look at a prime bull out at the Ortiz hacienda — and he’s pretty handy with a rifle, in case any road agents or Indians turn up.”
Did he delude himself to think she cared? Did he truly imagine this a marriage, or was he only goading his former mistress to remind her of her place? Lucy forced a nod to end his explanations, then flinched when he kissed her on the cheek.
Elena, who lingered in the kitchen doorway, watched intently. She stepped forward and handed him a packet, and Lucy noticed how their gazes locked.
She didn’t give two hoots. As far as she was concerned, Ward Cameron could take his unwanted attentions to the woman’s bedroom, as long as he left her in peace.
Cameron nodded curtly to Miss Rathbone before leaving.
The older woman checked the watch pinned to her bosom once again, as she had already a dozen times or more.“Shouldn’t we be going now?” Miss Rathbone asked, a hint of a quaver in her voice.
She didn’t look so much like a bulldog as she fidgeted with the clasp on her reticule and smoothed her sensible brown skirt. Lucy thought the uncharacteristic display of nervousness made Miss Rathbone seem almost likable. Too bad she’d chosen her final morning here to affect some semblance of humanity.
At first, Lucy had been just as eager to see the last of her disdainful warden as Miss Rathbone was to leave. Yet now she felt surprising sadness at the loss of the only familiar person in her life. She imagined the woman going back to Connecticut to resume the management of the Worthington home, a home that Lucy had forever put beyond her in a few moments of pleasure. A wave of loneliness nearly swamped her.
“It’s more than two hours until the stage is due,” Lucy said. “Have something to eat. Heaven knows the next time you’ll have decent food.”
She gestured toward the plate Elena had just set on the table. On it, an assortment of dainties steamed enticingly. Perhaps in an effort to buy some sort of peace with Lucy, Elena had offered to try some of her American receipts. Though Lucy was grateful for the Mexican woman’s efforts, Elena’s attempts had so far proved quite wretched. Delicious as the pastries smelled, Lucy decided that for the sake of her delicate stomach, she would wait until Elena’s skills improved.
Miss Rathbone, however, sank onto a chair’s edge and murmured, “Yes, I suppose if I’ve learned anything from our adventure out here, it’s to eat food when it’s offered.” She recovered her old form enough to smite Elena with a delightfully disdainful glare. “Almost any food, prepared by any sort of person.”
Lucy smiled as Elena bit her lip and disappeared into the kitchen. In her wake, Spanish words ricocheted like bullets.
“You don’t supposed she’s swearing, do you?” Lucy asked.
“It would be unthinkable. Those must be prayers of gratitude for the opportunity to serve a Worthington. I’ve uttered quite a few myself.”
Miss Rathbone bit into the pastry, giving Lucy no clue as to whether or not her words had been in jest. Miss Rathbone, joking? This trip had truly brought out the most unexpected qualities.
Lucy poured the two of them a cup of tea.
“So how was today’s experiment?” she asked, gesturing toward the plate.
Lucy saw the woman’s jaw twitch violently. Miss Rathbone’s nerves must be more sensitive than she’d expected. Lucy was about to ask if she was quite all right when Miss Rathbone’s whole head jerked. The older woman’s hands shot toward her stomach, and they, too, appeared to spasm uncontrollably.
Alarmed, Lucy jumped to her feet. “Miss Rathbone?”
Foam dripped from Miss Rathbone’s mouth, which opened in a silent scream. She fell forward, sloshing steaming liquid from the teacup, then rolled out of her chair onto the floor. Her body convulsed violently, and the dining room filled with the acrid odor of her vomit.
“Elena!” Lucy screamed. “Elena, I need help!”
Though the smell made her want to retch as well, Lucy dropped to her knees and turned Miss Rathbone’s head to one side to keep her from choking. But Miss Rathbone continued to flail and thrash so violently that Lucy’s efforts mattered little.
“Elena! Elena, come in here!” Lucy’s throat strained with her shouting, but still, Elena did not come.
Leaving Miss Rathbone for the moment, Lucy went to find her. Elena had left the kitchen, but perhaps Manuel would be outside, since he was to drive them a bit later. Lucy ran down the back steps and to the carriage house.
“Thank God!” she exclaimed on seeing the young, dark-featured man brushing the red-brown flank of one of the sorrel horses. “We must have a doctor here at once! Miss Rathbone is having terrible fits!”
He nodded rapidly, “Sí, señora. I will try to find him quickly.”
Without even bothering to throw a saddle on the gelding’s back, he leapt aboard and grasped the animal’s mane. As the horse’s swift hoof beats receded quickly, Lucy rushed back into the dining room.