Climbing up beside Marty, Ridge took up the reins, released the brake, and clucked to the team.
As the horses trotted down the street, he slid a glance in Martha Flynn’s direction. She sat beside him, her back rigid, her cupped hands resting on her thighs. Her black skirt was covered with dust, and the hem had been torn. Staring at her, he couldn’t help wondering what the hell had upset her so badly that she had walked in front of a freight wagon.
With a shake of his head, he turned his attention to the road ahead. Even so, he was acutely aware of the woman sitting beside him. Her thigh occasionally brushed against his. Even above the smell of dust and leather and horse, he could detect the scent of the perfume she wore.
They were about a mile out of town when she said softly, “You saved my life. Thank you.”
“Anytime.” He looked at her again. “What made you do such a damn fool thing?”
“I just wasn’t thinking about what I was doing, that’s all.”
“You were sure as hell thinking about something.” He frowned. “You were coming out of Ludlow’s law office, weren’t you?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Is that right?”
“Just because you saved my life doesn’t give you the right to pry into my business.”
She was getting prickly, Ridge thought with a wry grin. A sure sign that she was feeling better.
Silence fell between them again.
Ridge gazed out over the grassland that stretched away on both sides of the road. Cattle grazed on the lush grass. He spied a deer in the shadows. A hawk soared high overhead, wings spread wide as it drifted on the air currents until it abruptly changed direction, folded its wings, and swooped down on some unsuspecting rodent or rabbit.
Lifting his gaze, he stared at the mountains in the distance and felt an old stirring for home rise within him. It had been a long time since he had ridden up the narrow, winding corridor that led to the entrance of the Apache stronghold, a place surrounded by rocky walls that were fifteen hundred feet high. It had been too long since he’d heard the sound of the drums and watched the devil dancers. Too long since he’d heard the harsh, guttural tongue of his mother’s people. A lifetime.
As the silence stretched between them, Marty looked over at Ridge. He had a strong profile, prominent cheekbones, a nose that might have been broken, a determined jaw. “Where were you headed when you stopped at our place that first night?”
“Nowhere.”
“Don’t you have a home? People who miss you?”
“Not since I was a kid.”
“Where did you grow up?”
He slid a glance in her direction. “In the Dragoon Mountains.” The Apache sanctuary stood in splendid isolation, surrounded by alkali flats and desert. Since clouds of dust raised by approaching horses could be seen for forty miles, it was impossible for an enemy to approach them undetected. Water was available year-round, thanks to springs located inside the stronghold. The slopes were covered with piñon, mesquite, juniper, catclaw mimosa, yucca, and scrub oak.
“Indian country,” she murmured, a note of awe evident in her tone.
He nodded. “You ever have any trouble with the tribes in this area?”
“Nothing serious. They steal a few cattle now and then, but Pa…” She took a deep breath and blew it out in a long sigh. “Pa said it was better to let them take a few head now and then than try to stop them. I guess he was right. The Apache raided a couple of the other ranches last year, but they left us alone.”
Ridge grunted softly. “Your father was a wise man.”
“Yes, he was.”
She fell silent again, and he waited for the inevitable question. It came a moment later. “Why don’t you live with the Indians anymore?”
“Just because I work for you doesn’t give you the right to pry into my personal business.”
She didn’t like having her own words thrown back at her. He could see it in the sudden taut line of her jaw, the quick flare of heat in her eyes.
Dani’s laughter bubbled up from the back of the buckboard.
Marty glanced over her shoulder. “Hush up, you.”
“Sorry,” Dani replied, laughter still evident in her tone.
Marty looked at Ridge again. “I probably should have asked about this before I hired you, but you’re not wanted anywhere, are you? By the law, I mean?”
“Are you sure you want to know? It might be better if you didn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “If something happens later, you can always say you didn’t know.”
She pondered that for a few moments. “I think I’d better know now.”
“All right. I’m wanted over in Dodge and in Abilene.”
“What for?”
He looked at her, one brow arched. “What do you think?”
“Murder?”
“That’s what it says on the poster.”
“Are you…? Did you…?”
“It was self-defense both times. I didn’t hang around to find out if a jury would agree.”
“Why not?”
He looked at her as if she was one loaf short of a dozen. “I’m Apache. The men I killed weren’t.”
She didn’t have to ask what he meant. Phil Sheridan wasn’t the only one who thought that the only good Indians were dead Indians. Most of her friends and neighbors felt the same way. Even though the Apache did most of their raiding in Mexico, they raided the surrounding ranches from time to time, stealing cattle and horses. Last spring several ranchers had been wounded; one had been killed.
“I didn’t have any luck in town,” Ridge said after a time. “I asked around at the saloon and over at the smithy, but no one seems to know anything. As far as strangers in town, I seem to be the only one.”
“I still think it’s Claunch,” Marty said.
“He seems to be well liked by the townspeople.” Ridge had been in town the day before yesterday. Sitting in on a poker game, he had listened to the idle chatter of the other men at the card table. Victor Claunch had been mentioned from time to time. His neighbors considered him to be a fair man, worthy of their trust and their respect. He went to church on Sundays. He made sizable donations to the building fund for the new school.
Marty shrugged. “They see only what he wants them to see.”
“I’ll keep asking around and see if I can turn anything up.”
Marty nodded, her thoughts returning to her conversation with Randolph Ludlow as they pulled onto the road that led to the ranch. Somehow, she had to convince her mother not to sell; if she couldn’t convince Nettie to keep the ranch, she would have to find a way to buy her out, because she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. The ranch was home, the only one she had ever known, and nobody was going to make her leave. Nobody.
She grimaced as the ranch house came into view. Two horses were tied to the hitching post. She recognized them both. One belonged to Cory Mulvaney. The other belonged to Victor Claunch.
“Looks like you’ve got company,” Ridge remarked, drawing the buckboard to a halt in front of the porch.
“Look, Cory’s here!” Dani scrambled out of the back of the buckboard and ran up the front steps.
“At least she’s happy to see the man who’s come calling on her,” Ridge said, watching Dani open the door and hurry inside.
Marty uttered a soft sound of agreement. For a moment, she thought about hiding out in the barn, but then it occurred to her that if she let Victor Claunch court her, she might find out once and for all if he had killed her father.
Swinging down from the buckboard, Ridge walked around the team and lifted Marty to the ground.
“Thank you.”
He nodded, then glanced up at the house. “You want me to throw him out for you?”
“No.” She brushed her skirt off as best she could, took a deep breath, and moved toward the porch. At the top of the steps, she turned to face him. “Thanks again for what you did
this afternoon.”
“Just don’t let it happen twice.”
She smiled at him, then opened the door and went inside.
Ridge stared after her. She was up to something, he thought. But what?
Curious, he followed her up the stairs and into the house.
Chapter Eight
Victor Claunch rose from the overstuffed chair that flanked the sofa as Marty entered the parlor. It was all she could do to force a smile as he crossed the room toward her.
“Have you been waiting long?” she asked.
“Twenty minutes or so.”
“At least you had company.” Marty smiled over at Cory, who was sitting on the sofa. There was no sign of Dani. No doubt she had gone upstairs to freshen up.
“Yes,” Victor replied, his tone clearly indicating he had little use for Cory Mulvaney.
“What brings you here, Mr. Claunch?” she asked.
“I’d like to speak to you.” Victor glanced past her to where Ridge stood just inside the door. “Alone.”
“I can’t imagine you have anything to say to me that can’t be said in front of Dani or Cory. Or Mr. Longtree.”
“I can.” Victor took her by the hand and started toward the front door. He paused in front of Longtree. “Don’t follow us.”
Ridge glanced at Marty. “Miss Flynn?”
“I’ll be all right.”
Claunch smirked at Ridge, and then followed Marty out the door. He led her away from the house to a shady spot beneath an ancient pine.
“So,” Marty said, “what did you want to tell me?”
“I know the timing isn’t right, but I’ve waited long enough. I let you play your little games, but enough’s enough. I need a wife. You need a man to help you with the ranch. It’s time we got married.”
She wondered how anxious he would be to marry her if he knew Seamus had left the ranch to Nettie. But if he knew that, he might not come around anymore, and she wanted to keep him coming around, at least until she knew whether or not he had killed her father.
“The timing isn’t right,” she said. “After all, I just buried my father a few days ago.” Time, that was what she needed. Time to find an excuse to search Victor’s house for her father’s watch, time for Ridge to turn up the horse the killer had been riding.
“I’m not suggesting we wed immediately,” Claunch said. “I just want things settled between us.”
“I can’t think of marriage right now,” Marty said, wishing he would release her hand. “I can’t think of anything but finding the man who killed my father.”
“Bruckner said he was satisfied that your father was killed while being robbed. No doubt the man responsible has left the territory.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” She forced a smile. “But any talk of marriage will have to wait until I know for certain. Surely you can understand that?”
“Yes, of course. I have no problem with a long engagement.” He patted her hand, looking pleased with himself. “It’s settled then.” And so saying, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It was all she could do to stand there and let him. Had it been any other man, it might have been a rather pleasant kiss. But this wasn’t just any man. Even if Victor hadn’t pulled the trigger, she was certain he was involved, if not downright responsible for her father’s death.
When he released her, she clenched her hands to keep from wiping her mouth.
“I’m glad we’ve got that settled,” he said.
She nodded.
“I’ll see you at church on Sunday. Perhaps we’ll make a day of it. What would you say to a picnic lunch?”
“That would be nice. What would you like to have?”
“I’ll have Reyna take care of it.” He kissed her again. “Why don’t you get rid of that gunman?”
“I don’t think so,” she replied calmly. “Not just yet.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Claunch said. “I’ll feel better knowing you’ve got some protection.”
Frowning, Marty stared after Claunch. She had expected him to insist that she ask Ridge to leave. It confused her that he didn’t. Had she misjudged him? But if he hadn’t killed her father, who had?
She was still frowning when she returned to the house.
Opening the front door, she was disappointed, though not surprised, to see that Ridge was gone. She hadn’t really expected him to hang around after she left with Victor, but she was disappointed just the same.
Then she saw her sister on the sofa and all thoughts of Ridge Longtree fled her mind.
“Danielle Flynn!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing?”
Dani and Cory jerked away from each other as if they’d been struck by lightning. It was a toss-up as to which of them was more embarrassed, Dani or Cory. They stared at her, both of them blushing hotly.
Cory stumbled to his feet. “Miss Flynn, I…I…” He glanced over his shoulder at Dani, then cleared his throat. “We’re gonna get married!” he blurted, as if that made everything all right.
“Married?” Marty shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Dani stood and slipped her hand into Cory’s. “I love him, Marty.”
“You’re too young to get married, both of you.”
“I’m seventeen!”
“And he’s seventeen, and you’re both too young.”
Dani poked Cory in the side. “Say something.”
“I’m almost eighteen,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “I’ve got a job. I can support her.”
“On what? That pittance you make working for Anderson?”
Cory nodded.
“Dani, you are not getting married,” Marty said adamantly. “And I don’t want to hear any more about it until you’re at least eighteen.”
“Why are you being so mean?”
“Why are you being so foolish?”
“Oh, I hate you!” Dani cried. “I really do! I wish Mama were here.”
Marty bit back the angry words that rose in her throat. “Cory, I think you’d better go home.”
He glanced at Dani, kissed her cheek quickly, and left the room. Marty thought he looked relieved.
“How could you?” Dani shouted. “How could you send him away like that? You treat me like a baby!”
“You’re acting like one. Stop it.”
With a sob, Dani ran out of the room and up the stairs.
Marty stared after her. Married, indeed! Neither one of them had the sense God gave a goat. And yet it was easy to see that they were in love. What right did she have to stand in their way? Her mother had been married at seventeen…
“And look how that turned out,” she muttered sourly.
Ridge was sitting in the shade of the barn, glumly thinking that he was no closer to finding out who had killed Marty’s old man than he had been when she first hired him, when he saw Cory mount his horse and ride out of the yard as if the devil were at his heels.
Taking a last drag on his cigarette, Ridge crushed it beneath the toe of his boot, then rose and ambled up toward the house, drawn by his curiosity at the kid’s hasty retreat and a longing to see Marty Flynn. She was in his thoughts more and more these days. And in his dreams at night. No matter how often he told himself they had no future together, he couldn’t get her out of his mind.
He found her in the kitchen, her hair tied back, a ruffled apron covering her dress. He knew immediately that the apron belonged to Dani.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
She looked up from the potatoes she was peeling. “Didn’t anyone teach you to knock?”
“I did. No one answered.”
“So you just walked in?”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No.”
“I saw the Mulvaney boy take off like he had a load of buckshot in his drawers.”
Marty blew out a breath of exasperation. “They want to be get married.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong with it? She’s only seve
nteen, that’s what’s wrong with it. And Cory…” She shook her head. “He hardly makes enough to support himself. How’s he going to support Dani? And what if she gets pregnant?”
He rested one shoulder against the doorjamb. “Happens all the time.”
She tossed him a sour look. “You’re no help.”
“What did Claunch have to say?” he asked, deciding to change the subject.
“We’re engaged,” she replied tartly.
“Looks like everyone wants to get married,” Ridge drawled. He didn’t like the idea of her marrying another man one damn bit.
“I don’t. And we’re not engaged. He just thinks we are. Honestly, the man refuses to take no for an answer.” She squelched the little voice in the back of her mind whispering that all her financial troubles would be over if she married Victor Claunch.
“Why does he think you’re engaged if you’re not?”
“He asked me to marry him. I never said yes.”
“Did you say no?”
“He didn’t give me a chance.” She picked up another potato and began to peel it. “I’m not so sure he killed my father.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Well, for one thing, he didn’t insist that I send you packing.”
“Maybe he knew I wouldn’t go.”
“Wouldn’t you?” The idea warmed her like a wool blanket on a cold winter night.
“How can I?” He closed the distance between them, his eyes hot and heavy-lidded.
“Why can’t you?” She stared up at him, the knife and the half-peeled potato falling into the sink, unnoticed. Her heart began to pound with excitement. Anticipation ran through her like sweet honey. She swallowed hard, waiting, hoping.
His gaze caressed her face, lingering on her lips. “I haven’t found the killer yet.”
The heat of his eyes brought a flush to her cheeks. “Is that the only reason?”
“What do you think?” he asked, his voice low and husky.
Think? How could she think when he was looking at her like that, when she could feel the heat radiating from his body, when all she had to do was take one step toward him to be in his arms?
Under Apache Skies Page 6