High Mountain Drifter

by Jillian Hart

  "The deputy has a fine sense of direction," Magnolia countered. "Don't think anyone here is going to buy that excuse."

  "Okay, so maybe we had a pleasant time." Rose blushed even more. "He took me along the back roads, even the one on the other side of the mountain. It was strange to think we were still on McPhee land. The Rocking M really is huge."

  "It's Aumaleigh's ranch now," Iris pointed out, smiling at their aunt, who was descending the curving staircase winding its way down from the second story. "Aumaleigh, Rose is telling us about her drive with Wade."

  "Wade is a fine man. I hope you kids had a nice time." Aumaleigh looked pale, her lovely face pinched, as if she were in pain. Maybe she was just tired.

  "Aumaleigh, maybe you'd like a cup of tea." Verbena abandoned the bowl of green beans she was snapping and headed for the cabinet. "You're staying for supper, right?"

  "I'd love to, but I promised Daisy I would swing by and help her fix the meal." Aumaleigh reached the bottom step, graceful as always, so tall and slim, and pushed a stray strand of molasses-dark hair out of her eyes. "When Beckett is up on his feet, we'll have to have a supper all together."

  "That sounds great," Rose spoke up, rotating the potato she held as she scraped off its skin. "But we decided to make enough food to take over to Daisy."

  "Yeah, so she won't have to cook," Magnolia seconded.

  "Well, I guess then I'll take the food over," Aumaleigh volunteered. "I want to check on Beckett anyway. I want to see with my own eyes how he's doing. He's practically family."

  "And he will be once they get married." Rose set down the potato and considered the sizable pile of nude spuds. She went in search of a larger knife. "They haven't had a chance to set a wedding date yet."

  "A wedding." Iris turned dreamy, her knife stilling as she smiled. "Think of how lovely it can be. We can afford a nice one. With a beautiful dress."

  "Dresses for all of us," Verbena spoke up as she poured a cup of tea for Aumaleigh. "And a gorgeous cake."

  "And a fancy dinner." Magnolia set the pot down with a clunk on top of the stove. "We should have it right here in this house. We can put all the leaves in the dining room table. It seats twelve without it, so I can't imagine how many people we can get around it then."

  "Yes, it's a good idea. Your first party here should be a wedding party. It just feels fitting." Aumaleigh ambled over to the counter, looking happier. Little glimmers sparkled in her bluebonnet blue eyes as she imagined it all. "The kitchen was designed to cook for big events, we have the parlor, library and sunrooms for people to mingle and relax."

  "We can make snack foods and serve them on trays," Iris said, knife and carrots forgotten. She leaned against the counter, thinking. "Oh, we could have little breads and dip. Cheese and crackers. I can brainstorm up a good list. Served with punch and maybe wine."

  "We could use the best of the china and crystal that Grandmother left us," Rose suggested, excited. "I can almost see it. So classy and elegant."

  "And happy," Verbena spoke up, setting down the teapot. Yes, she could see it too. With warmth and cheer in the air, the house vibrating with the sounds of laughter and merriment, of conversations and festivity. The yard was large enough that children could play in it and have a fun time. Her throat ached, wanting it more than anything. Happy times for her family, a celebration for Daisy. She deserved that.

  "She will be thrilled that we've planned her wedding for her." Aumaleigh smiled, amused. "All she will need to do is show up."

  "Exactly. We've got it all figured out. She has no say," Magnolia teased, filling another pan with water. "She and Beckett deserve the best day and we're going to make sure they get it."

  "And little Hailie, too," Verbena said, remembering the dear little girl. "She'll be our niece then. We're going to be aunties."

  "It's a wonderful thing to be an aunt," Aumaleigh said, pulling Verbena close in a quick hug. "I highly recommend it. Now you'd better put those potatoes on because that roast smells ready to come out to me."

  A knock rattled the back door. Zane Reed towered there on the other side of the glass, the thinning daylight behind him, casting him in silhouette, as dark as shadow. He grimaced at her through the window in the door. When everyone spotted him, silence filled the room. The merriment stopped.

  "I'll get it." Verbena pushed away from the counter, hurrying over to him. With his stern expression, muscled power and sort of an untamed quality about him, she could see why her sisters were a little intimidated. Who wouldn't be? But remembering what those women had said about him in church made her mad. He really wasn't fearsome, she decided as she opened the door. He just wasn't like any other man in the world. He was unique.

  "Do you have a minute now?" he asked, gaze dark as he scanned the bright kitchen where Rose was cutting potatoes, Iris rescued the roast out of the oven, Magnolia set a pot to the stove and Aumaleigh set down her teacup to begin setting the table. A muscle jumped along his jaw. "You look busy."

  "If it's a good time for you, it's one for me too." She opened the door wider. Cold air breezed in, smelling of winter. "We can talk in the library again."

  "Good." He nodded at the women, tipped his hat in a silent greeting and strode across the room. The light didn't seem to touch him. He seemed to drag the shadows along with him.

  "Would you like a cup of tea?" Aumaleigh set down the stack of plates she'd counted out. "Mr. Reed, is it?"

  "You can call me Zane." He stood at the archway, shoulders set, jaw tight. Remote. "You must be the one who owns the ranch."

  "Yes, it's nice to meet you. Please call me Aumaleigh." Her face warmed, as if with relief, as if she was so very glad he'd come to help. "Are you finding the bunkhouse comfortable? If you need anything, more bed linens, towels, maybe another quilt, please just ask."

  "I'm fine." His answer came clipped, business-like. "And no tea, thanks. Verbena, I don't have time to waste."

  "Right. Then come warm yourself by the fire and we'll talk." She shrugged. He wasn't the friendliest fellow, she thought as she slipped down the hall, but then he wasn't here to be friendly. She didn't want friendly. She wanted a ruthless hunter who would deliver Ernest to the sheriff in chains.

  As if he read her mind, Zane closed the doors quietly behind them, shutting them into the library alone. Without a word he marched to the first window and drew the tapestried curtains closed. His mouth a hard, narrow line, his throat cording as if angry.

  "You keep the windows covered on this side of the house." He crossed to the second large window and yanked the heavy curtains across their ornate rods. "Day and night. That goes for upstairs too. On my initial scout, I realized how easy it is to spy on you."

  "What do you mean?" Her blood went cold. "He's not right outside, Burton and the men are making sure of that."

  "He just has to sit on that mountainside." Zane tugged the edges of the curtain so they were safely overlapping. "All he needs is a pair of binoculars. He can see everything. I could. Iris was sewing on a dress, you walked down the hallway upstairs and joined Iris here. You were embroidering on a pillowcase with blue thread. Aumaleigh came down and joined you."

  "You saw all that?"

  "As clear as if I was standing outside the house." He skirted the perimeter to the last window, reaching for the curtains. "He doesn’t have to be in the line shack up there to see you, although that's a good vantage point. The other side of the house doesn't have a direct line of sight into the windows, at least it’s too far for binoculars. It's not a worry. This side of the house is. Curtains closed. Always. That's your new rule."

  "Okay." Her knees were jelly-ish, so she sank onto the nearest sofa.

  "Now what did you want to talk about?" He gave a curtain panel a final yank, closing off all view of the outside world. "Every minute I'm in here, I could be out there hunting."

  "Believe me, I appreciate you coming. I don't want to hold you up. I want Ernest caught as fast as possible." She found her breath whooshing out of her a
s Zane turned his full attention on her, stalking toward her.

  Maybe it was all the weapons--he still clutched his big rifle, the walnut handles of both .45s strapped to his thighs gleamed in the lamplight. She noticed sheathed knives too, at his belt. Or maybe it was the man, pure masculinity and might, enormous as she tipped back her head to meet his gaze. He seemed like a giant.

  "I'm working as fast I can," he told her. "Is it not fast enough for you?"

  His baritone boomed low, and if it hadn't been for the twist at the corner of his mouth she might have thought she'd insulted him.

  "No," she told him, trying not to laugh. "Is there any chance you can find him tonight? I can't wait to give him a good kick in the shins."

  He let out a soft, small bark of laughter at that, shook his head, almost smiled again. "How about I hold him for you? You can kick him as many times as you want."

  "Deal." She found herself smiling too. An undeniable glow of warmth eked into her chest, like glowing embers on a cold night.

  "I thought about what you said." He took the chair next to her, turning his big body so he faced her, met her gaze head-on. The force of it was like an impact. The man radiated power inside and out. "You want to help with Craddock."

  "I have to do something. I'm tired of just sitting around." She nodded, hopeful. It had to be hopefulness making her heartbeat faster, making her feel so shivery. The thought of Ernest being caught was what was so thrilling, right?

  "My guess is you want to do something risky." Zane didn't blink, his gaze bored into her as if he could read her soul. "Put yourself out in the open alone, so he couldn't resist taking the bait."

  "Yes. I even have a plan." She couldn't believe it, but he seemed to be listening to this, considering it. Maybe this ordeal could be over in a few days. Just boom, Ernest arrested and carted off for trial. Over and done with, and her sisters would be safe. She would be free. "I was thinking we could do it in the late evening, you know, when it's dark, since he likes the dark."

  "Okay," Zane said thoughtfully, leaning closer, listening intently.

  "I could bring coffee out to the men, you know, something casual, something that doesn't look suspicious." She linked her hands together, as if to keep them from shaking. "If he's been watching us, he would know if something was out of the ordinary, but Rose and Iris have been taking stuff out to the men. Food, desserts, hot drinks. Only this time, I would do it and I wouldn't stay on the porch."

  "You'd willingly put yourself in danger." He frowned harder at that. "To draw him out?"

  "Yes." She lit up, animated. Her blue eyes sparkled, her sweetheart of a face wreathed with a big, hopeful smile. "I could walk around the house with the tray, stopping to chat with each cowboy on guard, very casual of course, but cheerful. Ernest really hates it when I talk to other men. He told me so when he took me, so it would agitate him. He thinks I'm flirting, trying to get a lot of interested men around me." She rolled her eyes, as if she thought it preposterous.

  No kidding. Men watched Verbena wherever they went. Hard not to notice all the besotted bachelors staring after her in that churchyard earlier today. She didn't seem aware of it, and when she did, he thought, remembering the odd little man with the bowler hat, she was polite but uninterested. Yeah, Craddock was off his rocker. Mad with jealousy. That could work in his favor.

  "So," she continued, gaining speed, thinking he liked her idea. "I could go all around the house so that wherever Ernest is watching from, he'll see me. He might lose his temper and make a move. Or he might think this is the perfect time, when I'm walking through the dark yard between cowboys. But you could be there, to stop him. Maybe we could do it tonight."

  "You put a lot of thought into your plan." He couldn’t fault her for that and probably expected him to go along. She was probably used to befuddled men, blown away by her beauty and kindness. Men weren't made with defenses against all of that. Not even him, he realized, taking in the bright, colorful smudge of bruises covering her face. The little cut on her lip that was healing. The black eye had lightened a shade and was almost completely unswollen. "I appreciate your thoroughness."

  "I spent a lot of time on it." She looked lighter, brighter, her beauty both inside and out glowing like a summer sun.

  "It's a good plan," he told her. "But no."

  "What do you mean, no?" Her slender eyebrows crinkled, her soft mouth gathered up in a surprised O. "You said it's a good plan. Then it should work."

  "True, but I'm not going to put you in danger. No way no how. End of discussion." He leaned back, glancing toward the door. Time to leave, except his body wasn't obeying. For some reason, he felt glued to the chair. "I work alone. That's the way it's going to be."

  "But-"

  "No buts," he interrupted, trying to stop the warmth creeping into his stone-hard chest, warmth for her. Put her in danger? Any man who'd do it, regardless of how small, was no man at all. He clenched his jaw, resolute. "You stay inside this house tonight. I don't want to be surprised by you deciding to carry out your plan anyway, assuming I'll be out there watching."

  "I just want him caught. You don't know what it's like to feel like this, knowing you've done everything wrong." Agony burrowed into her bruised face, true and raw. "If I'd ended it sooner, if I'd seen through his pretense earlier, if I'd walked out of this house and into the woods weeks ago and let him take me, then Magnolia wouldn’t have been kidnapped too. It would be over."

  "You would likely be dead," he pointed out, hating that thought. Viciously, furiously, ragingly hating that thought. No, she deserved to be safe right here in this beautiful, pampered life she had in this fancy manor. "It would have destroyed your sisters, so in that way, it wouldn't have saved them."

  She bit her bottom lip, as if too upset to answer. She turned away, staring at the closed windows. The weight on her shoulders must be unbearable.

  "I do know how you feel," he said gently, surprised the truth was coming out, that the words just rolled off his tongue, words he'd never told another soul. "I had to turn in my father several years back. Collected the bounty on him. The guilt and the regret had no end."

  "That had to feel awful." She leaned toward him, tender sympathy. "I'm so sorry you went through that."

  "I survived." He wasn't used to anyone feeling sorry for him. Wry humor tickled his throat. "I'm tough, don't worry. But I know how it feels when you're not at fault, not really, but it feels like it. This will pass. I'll catch Ernest for you, and you and your sisters can get back to your lives here, go on as if it never happened. It will be fine."

  "It sounds perfect, to put this all in the past. Bury it and forget it." The tenderness lingered in those sapphire blue depths. "Were you able to?"

  "I've moved on." Now his throat felt tight and achy. "I don't try to think of what's behind me much. I keep my eye on what's in front of me."

  "So it still hurts." She reached across the distance between them, laid her hand on his forearm. "How did your family treat you when you turned your father in?"

  "I don't have family." He meant to pull away, uncomfortable with her touch, with her so close, but his arm didn't seem to want to move. The weight of her hand, the heat of it, felt unsettling. Not the way he wanted to feel. "My ma died when I was a kid. Lost track of my brother in the orphanage. He got adopted out, I didn't."

  "So you're alone?" More sympathy shone in those eyes that held him like the moon to the earth. "I don't know what I'd do without my sisters. I don't have a life without them."

  "You won't have to worry about it." He was mesmerized by those caring eyes, held spellbound, caught in her gentleness. "You've had a real comfortable life, it seems, aside from this Ernest thing. It will go back to that in no time, if I do my job."

  "It is comfortable here. But this isn't the way we grew up." Curious, little crinkles dug in between her eyes, at the bridge of her nose. Cute. "This was our grandmother's house. She disowned Pa, so he and Ma moved to Chicago when my older sisters were small. I was born
there. I grew up in a shanty that was a quarter of the size of this room, maybe smaller. Just one room for all of us. I didn't own a brand new dress, one that was all my own and not a hand-me-down, until we inherited this place."

  "I didn't know. Milo hadn't mentioned it." He shook his head, looking surprised. "I wouldn't have guessed it. Maybe it's a sign you belong here."

  "In Montana?"

  "In a fancy life." He heard the words rumble warmly, because that's what he wanted for her, but they made him feel cold inside. "That's not how I grew up."

  "No, of course not, not in an orphanage. I've heard terrible stories about them. Did you spend most of your childhood there?"

  "No." His mouth tasted bitter, sour at the memory. At the truth of who he was, a truth he tried hard to forget. He would never want Verbena to know, because she gazed at him with such kindness. "My pa showed up at the orphanage one day. I hadn't seen him since I was small. He said I was old enough to work, so he took me with him."

  "I'm sorry you had a pa like that." Compassion made her lovely, made her shine. Captivating, she leaned in closer and gave his forearm another reassuring squeeze. "You didn't deserve that. You're a good man, Zane Reed."

  "Shows what you know." He tried to brush it off, the way he felt, the way she touched him deep inside where nobody went, where he allowed no one. But she was there, a flicker of light in his heart, in a dark, lonely place. "Most proper ladies cross the street to avoid me. Why are you being so nice to me?"

  "I just want you to catch Ernest," she said sweetly, playfully, but the emotion dark in her eyes said something different.

  He bowed his head, swallowing hard, not sure what to think. He didn't know if any woman had ever cared about him before, even in the smallest sense. He'd been a burden to his ma, a reminder of the misfortunes in her life, he'd been the illegitimate son of a known and despised outlaw. That made him a marked man, never accepted in polite society. He knew, because he'd tried that route.

  It had gone badly.