“Martha Jean, if you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’m going to take you on the floor right here, right now.”
She felt a rush of heat climb into her cheeks and with it the urge to throw her arms around him and beg him to do just that. She couldn’t, of course. Not with the sun shining through the window. Not with the back door wide open. Not with Dani upstairs. But she was tempted. Oh, Lord, she was tempted.
With an effort, she drew her gaze from his and took a step backward. “I think you’d better go.”
“I think you’re right.”
She was glad that his voice sounded as ragged as her own.
He took a deep breath. “I’ll go into town again tomorrow and do a little digging, see what I can turn up on Claunch and anybody else who might have had a motive for killing your old man.”
She stared up at him. He might be talking about looking into her father’s death, but it wasn’t doing anything to ease the tension smoldering between them.
“Dammit, woman,” he muttered gruffly.
She stared at him, her eyes widening, as he wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her against him. He kissed her once, hard and quick, and then he was gone, leaving her standing there, her body tingling, every instinct urging her to run after him and make him finish what he had started.
Dani sat on the edge of her bed, listening to the grandfather clock chime the hour. She drummed her fingertips on the table beside her bed, wondering if her sister was ever going to stop pacing the floor.
Thinking she was going to scream in frustration if Marty didn’t turn in soon, she pounded her fists on her pillow, her earlier anger at her sister returning with a vengeance. Darn Marty! Always spoiling her fun, always telling her what she could do and what she couldn’t. It wasn’t fair. Mama had gotten married when she was seventeen, so why couldn’t she? She loved Cory, and he loved her. And she was old enough to get married if she wanted to. She knew how to cook and sew and keep house. Hadn’t she been doing the cooking and the cleaning since she was a little girl? She could make jams and jellies with the best of them, and her apple pie had won the blue ribbon at the county fair four years running.
She hit the pillow again. She would make Cory a good wife.
The downstairs clock chimed again. Rising, Dani walked across the room and pressed her ear to the wall that separated her room from Marty’s. She didn’t hear anything. Had Marty finally gone to sleep?
She waited another twenty minutes, and when she didn’t hear anything, she locked her door, put on her shoes, and then tiptoed toward the window.
Ridge was standing in the shadows near the barn, smoking a last cigarette before he turned in, when he saw Dani Flynn climb out of her bedroom window and shinny down the big old tree that grew alongside the house. She paused a moment, glancing right and left, then hiked up her skirt and took off running in the direction of the creek.
Ridge grinned into the darkness. It didn’t take a Pinkerton agent to figure out where she was headed.
He glanced up at Marty’s window, debating, for a moment whether to wake her and let her know what her little sister was up to, and then he shrugged. Dani Flynn wasn’t the first love-struck girl to run off to meet her sweetheart in the middle of the night, and she wouldn’t be the last.
Chapter Nine
Cory looped his horse’s reins over a shrub near the creek. He didn’t much like sneaking around to meet Dani, but it was better than never being able to see her alone. He had been crazy about Dani Flynn for as long as he could remember. They had grown up together. He remembered teasing her when they were younger because that was the only way he knew to show her that he liked her. He had pulled on her braids, chased her home from school. Once, he’d put a big ol’ bullfrog in the pocket of her coat. He grinned with the memory. Never in all his life had he heard a girl holler so loud.
Picking up a handful of rocks, he skipped them across the water, one after the other, then glanced up at the sky. She was late tonight. He hoped Martha hadn’t caught Dani sneaking out of the house. Things were bad enough as they were.
He was bending down to pick up another rock when he heard a faint rustle in the undergrowth across the creek.
Straightening, he stared into the darkness that stretched away on the other side. Probably just an animal of some kind rooting around in the underbrush.
The sound of footsteps approaching from behind him sent his heart racing, and he whirled around, blew out a sigh of relief when he saw Dani walking toward him.
“Tarnation, girl,” he muttered.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He wrapped his arms around her. “You’re late.”
“Longtree was outside having a smoke. I had to go around the back way, then cut through the pasture.”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too.” She rubbed up against him, her face lifting for his kiss.
Murmuring her name, he drew her close, his mouth covering hers.
She moaned softly and pressed herself against him. With a low groan, Cory broke the kiss.
Dani stared up at him, wondering why Cory’s kisses didn’t excite her the way Longtree’s had, and then brushed the thought aside. She loved Cory, and if he didn’t excite her…well, it was probably just because she knew him so well. They had grown up together, after all. “More.”
Cory took a deep breath. “Dani, you’re driving me crazy.”
She ran her tongue over her lower lip. “Good.”
He shook his head. It was getting harder and harder to resist her, but he had to be strong enough for both of them. It would be so easy to take what she offered, but he loved Dani and wanted to marry her. She said she didn’t want to wait, but he couldn’t defile her, couldn’t take her innocence because he loved her, he knew he had to be strong enough for both of them. He knew what happened when a man couldn’t control his lust. His older brother had gotten a girl in trouble.
Rather than marry Sherene, Rob had left town. Cory had never forgiven his brother for running off like that. Not only had Rob left Sherene to face the town’s scorn alone, but he’d let his child be born a bastard. A few months later, Sherene had taken the baby and left town. It had just about broken his mother’s heart. Cory couldn’t forgive his brother for that, either.
“Cory.”
Dani ran her hands over his arms, down his chest, over his belly, her fingers sliding seductively back and forth.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t think we’d better meet down here anymore.”
“Why not? I know you want me, Cory. You know I want you.”
“I’ll talk to your sister again…”
“She won’t listen! Let’s run away. We could go to Bisbee and get married.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Let’s do it, Cory, now. Tonight!”
It was a mighty tempting offer, and one he couldn’t resist. He drew her closer, one hand stroking her hair. “Mrs. Cory Mulvaney.”
“I like the sound of that,” she said, smiling.
“Maybe we should wait until tomorrow night.”
“Why?”
“We’ll need some money, a change of clothes. I don’t have any cash on me. You’ll need a horse.”
“I don’t want to wait,” Dani said, pouting prettily. She was tired of waiting. She wanted to know what all the mystery was about.
“It’s just one more day.” Cory stroked her cheek. “We can wait that long.”
“I guess so.” She looked up at him, her eyes shining in the moonlight. “But only if you kiss me again.”
She didn’t have to ask him twice.
Caught up in her nearness, lost in the smoldering heat of her kiss, Cory didn’t pay any attention to the noise behind him until it was too late.
Chapter Ten
Nettie Flynn alighted from the stagecoach. She had forgotten how much she disliked traveling by stage! Settling her hat on her head,
she brushed the dust from her clothing as best she could. Lifting her skirts to avoid a mud puddle, Nettie made her way to the boardwalk to wait for the driver to unload her luggage.
She glanced up and down the street, noting that Chimney Creek had grown considerably in her absence. Of course, it was still just a cow town, with wide, dusty streets and the stink of cattle in the air. Still, she was pleased to note there were several decent-looking restaurants, and a new hotel. She might find herself staying there, she mused, depending on the welcome she received from her daughters.
A young boy in too-short pants and a faded blue shirt hurried toward her. “Help you with your bags, ma’am?” he asked politely. “Only two bits to carry them to the hotel.”
“Why, thank you, young man. Those two are mine,” she said, pointing at a large suitcase and a flowered carpetbag. “But I’m not staying at the hotel. How much to carry them to the livery barn?”
“No extra charge, ma’am.”
She smiled. “And do you know someone who could drive me out to the Flynn ranch?”
“You’re looking at him, ma’am.”
“You?” Nettie exclaimed.
He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, ma’am.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirteen, ma’am.”
“And what’s your name?”
“Tommy Moorland.”
“Very well, Mr. Moorland. Let’s go.”
She was following young Tommy across the street when she heard someone calling her name. Pausing, she glanced over her shoulder to see Randolph Ludlow hurrying after her.
He smiled as he approached her. “Mrs. Flynn, I thought that was you.”
“Good morning, Mr. Ludlow.”
“I’m sorry you had to come home to such sad news,” Ludlow said.
“Thank you.”
“I have a copy of Mr. Flynn’s will for you. I was going to mail it to you. If you’ll just wait a moment, I’ll get it.”
She nodded, wondering why she needed a copy. Surely, after all that had happened between the two of them, Seamus had left everything to the girls.
Mr. Ludlow returned a few minutes later. He handed her a large envelope that was addressed to her home in Boston. “If you have any questions, I’ll be happy to answer them.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ludlow.”
“Welcome home, Mrs. Flynn.”
She murmured her thanks once again, then stared down the street, bemused.
She looked down when Tommy tapped her on the arm. “Are you ready to go, ma’am?”
A short time later, they were on their way to the ranch. Nettie sat on the spring seat, the envelope clutched in her hands. She studied the boy sitting beside her, a capable driver in spite of his youth.
“Why aren’t you in school, Tommy Moorland?”
He hunched his shoulders. “Can’t make no money goin’ to school.”
“I see. Do you live in town?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“With your parents?”
“Just my ma. Pa run off when Nell was born.”
She resisted the urge to brush a lock of hair from his brow, certain he wouldn’t take kindly to such a gesture. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“We don’t need him,” Tommy said. “I’m man enough to take care of Ma and the girls.”
“How many girls are there?”
“Six.”
“You have six sisters? Are they all younger than you?”
“No, ma’am. Leticia’s sixteen. She works over to the Red Dog Saloon. And Polly’s fifteen. She works as a maid for Miss Ellen over to the boardinghouse.”
Nettie stared at him, shocked that he had a sister who worked in a saloon.
“The rest of the girls are too young to work. They goes to school.”
“And what does your mother do?”
“She takes in laundry and does ironing for the ladies in town.”
“She’s lucky to have you to look after her,” Nettie said.
He looked straight ahead, but she saw the flush that crept into his cheeks and reddened the tips of his ears. She had the feeling he hadn’t too many compliments in his young life.
Unable to restrain her curiosity any longer, she opened the envelope and withdrew the last will and testament of Seamus Patrick Flynn.
She pressed a hand to her heart when she saw her name.
And to my wife, Nettie Flynn, I bequeath the Flynn Ranch, including the house and outbuildings, to do with as she sees fit, though it would please me greatly if she would stay and make it her home for the sake of our daughters.
“Oh my,” she murmured. “Oh my!”
“Is something wrong, ma’am?” Tommy asked.
Nettie smiled at him. “No, nothing.”
Taking a deep breath, she quickly read the rest of the document, unable to believe that Seamus had left her the ranch. What had he been thinking? Was this his way of trying to make amends for sending her away all those years ago? She had never truly liked living in the West. True, the sunrises and the sunsets had been breathtaking, and she had loved the endless sea of grass and the herds of wild horses, but she had missed the excitement of life in the East. She had missed the parties and fancy-dress balls, the fashionable shops, and having tea with her friends on Sunday afternoons. She had missed the comforts and conveniences she had taken for granted in Boston. Perversely, it wasn’t until she returned to Boston, when she knew she would never see the ranch again, that she began to miss it. But, most of all, she had missed her children.
With a sigh, she gazed out over the prairie. She never should have married Seamus Flynn. It had been a mistake from the start, but he had been so handsome, so charming, she had been unable to resist him even when her father warned her that marrying Seamus would cause her nothing but grief. Even when her mother warned her that Seamus Flynn’s drinking and fits of jealousy would not make for a tranquil marriage. Headstrong and foolish, Nettie had ignored her parents. So what if Seamus drank? So did her father. And it was flattering to think that Seamus loved her so desperately that he couldn’t bear for her to look at another man, or have another man look at her.
If only she had listened to her parents before it was too late…
“We’re here, ma’am.”
“What?” With a shake of her head, she realized they had arrived at the ranch.
Ridge emerged from the cookhouse, a cup of coffee in his hand, in time to see a rickety, one-horse wagon pull into the yard. He paused just outside the cookhouse door. He had been on his way up to the house to talk to Martha Jean, but it looked like she was about to have company. Taking a drink of his coffee, he wondered who had come calling.
As the wagon came to a stop, he got a good look at the face of the woman alighting from the rig. Holy hell. Unless he missed his guess, the woman in the stylish traveling suit was none other than the widow Flynn. His gaze moved over her appreciatively. She wore her hair swept up under a ridiculous bonnet adorned with flowers and a long, curling feather. The fitted jacket and slim skirt she wore showed off a nicely rounded figure. She was a handsome woman, and she knew it, he thought. There was confidence in the way she carried herself. In her heyday, she must have turned heads everywhere she went, he thought, much like her younger daughter. Even now, the few men hanging around at the barn turned to stare at her. Moving into the shade, he rested his shoulder against a corner of the cookhouse. His talk with Martha would have to wait.
Marty looked out the kitchen window, wondering who would be coming to call so early in the morning. Although it really wasn’t that early. The hands were already out on the range, and she’d had breakfast. She guessed Dani was still angry about last night, since she hadn’t come downstairs yet. No doubt she would stay in her bedroom all day, sulking.
Marty frowned as Tommy Moorland helped a woman alight from the carriage. Her attire was impeccable from the curling white feather in her bonnet to her short peach-colored jacket and striped taffeta skirt.
Marty leaned for
ward, her eyes narrowing. No, it couldn’t be. But it was.
Nettie Flynn had finally come home.
Tommy trailed after Nettie, a bag in each hand.
Marty took a deep breath. She had imagined this moment a thousand times in the last seven years. Now that it was here, her first thought was to turn and run out the back door.
What could she say to this woman? This woman who now owned the ranch that Marty had called home for as long as she could remember. Like it or not, her mother had the power to keep the ranch or sell it to the highest bidder. Marty muttered an oath, one she had never dared speak aloud in front of her father. She never should have let Dani persuade her to send that wire. Not that it would have solved anything. If Nettie hadn’t shown up, Randolph Ludlow would doubtless have sent her a copy of the will.
She waited, her heart in her throat, wondering if her mother would knock or just breeze into the house as if she had never left.
Her answer came a moment later, when there was a soft, ladylike knock on the door.
With a sigh of resignation, Marty left the kitchen to open the front door for the woman she had hoped never to see again.
For a timeless moment, Marty stared at her mother through the screen door, and her mother stared back.
Nettie spoke first. “Martha Jean,” she murmured tremulously. “You’re all grown up.”
Marty nodded, unable to speak, uncertain of what she was feeling. Nettie looked much the same as she remembered. Her hair was still a rich auburn color, though there were several strands of gray visible beneath her perky bonnet. There were a few fine lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. She had gained a little weight, though it was not unattractive. Marty was certain that men still turned to stare when her mother passed by.
Nettie tilted her head to one side. “May I come in?”
“Why ask me?” Marty replied, unable to keep the bitterness from her tone. “It’s your house now.”
Turning away from the door, Marty went into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of black coffee, hating the way her hand trembled. She heard Nettie thank the Moorland boy for driving her out to the ranch, then the sound of the front door closing as Tommy left the house.
Under Apache Skies Page 7