Like ghouls waiting in the shadows, the nightmare closed around her.
In Abel Farmer’s cornfield, she thrashed, desperately trying to find a way out of the maze. Danger stalked her, but she didn’t know where it lurked.
Rhyan was out here too. She sensed his presence but couldn’t find him. Running through rows and down rows without success, her ears strained for sounds of movement.
Finally, she saw him. From a far distance, Rhyan walked between rows of high corn, his back to her. She screamed at him, but he either didn’t hear her or ignored her. As he put more distance between them, she ran after him, gaining no ground at all. Weeds and vines reached.
She tried to shout his name, beg him to stop and turn around, but no sound came from her throat. In panic, she ran. Stumbled. Scrambled. Scampered. The stalks, one row over, began to shake. That ominous rustle from behind left no doubt it closed in fast.
Her screams erupted, coming until no breath was left to force them from her throat. She kept her eyes fixed on Rhyan’s retreating form. A force struck her from behind.
She jerked around in time to see the huge lion leap.
It bounded over her.
Then she knew. The lion wasn’t chasing her.
His massive hind paws threw dirt in her face as he raced down the path, crushing cornstalks on both sides, running straight for the man, his back to her, who seemed unaware of the danger.
Rhyan had been the quarry all along.
Nothing she did could save him. Falling face down in the dirt, she wept.
She awoke drenched in perspiration and tears.
Chapter 20
It had rained again sometime during the night, not much, but enough to clear the air of dust. Grandma’s cherished elms still dripped as Rhyan swung onto Rusty’s saddle and cantered along the drive, headed to the Double Bar H.
Sollano’s lawn spread out green and lush with water droplets sparkling in the morning sun. He could breathe easy, knowing the ranch was safe. Just how important that was struck him like a low hanging branch on an unfamiliar trail. Losing the place after all his grandparents had gone through to build it up would have left a pack of guilt he’d have to lug around for the rest of his life.
He drew another deep breath to drink in the fragrance of roses climbing the fence and flinched. His bruised chest hurt more today, and each jolt of the horse’s step sent a stab of pain through him.
When he’d gotten up this morning, the idea to return Colt’s money for the race horse seemed a good one. Colt ran a prosperous but tight operation and would certainly need the cash. Now he wished he’d just sent it.
The horse slowed to a clip-clop as he rode up to the Double Bar H corral. Colt would be out working with his men at this time of day. He dismounted and watched the wranglers a few minutes. They were getting ready to put on a rodeo for the Fourth of July. Rhyan’s cowboys would participate in calf roping, and a few idiots would likely ride bulls. Or try to, if they didn’t break their necks.
Since he saw nothing of Colt, he tethered Rusty and climbed the porch steps. Harriet opened the door. “Mr. Cason, please come in. I’ll get Mrs. Holliman for you.”
The maid turned to fetch Emma, but he stopped her. “I actually wanted to see Mr. Holliman.”
She whipped back around. “Oh, he’s not here. I believe he went into town after luncheon.”
“Harriet, who is it?” Emma’s voice came from the kitchen. She made her appearance before Harriet could reply. “Cowboy, come on in here and sit a spell. Oh, Harriet, would you go watch my berries?” She wiped her hands on her apron as she stopped in front of Rhyan. “I’m fixing blackberry jam.” She added over her shoulder, “And Harriet, bring us some lemonade. It’s hot a sight already today.”
Rhyan followed her to the seating arrangement by the open window. “Will Colt be gone long?” He grimaced as he lowered himself into the chair.
“He won’t be back until tonight. Helping Tom at the livery. What’s wrong with you, cowboy? You been wrestling a bull?”
“Not me, but some of the men are already practicing bull riding for the Fourth of July.”
“Oh, I wish you wouldn’t allow bull riding. You know how these dunderheads try to outdo each other. Somebody always gets hurt. One of these days, somebody’s going to get trampled, and it won’t stop with the Fourth. They’re practicing to perform in Carianne’s wild-west shows.”
He started to tell her what he thought of that, but swallowed the retort. Better to discuss the stupidity of Carianne’s plans with Colt.
Harriet brought in two tall glasses of iced lemonade and set it on the occasional table between them. She bobbed her English curtsey. “The syrup hasn’t thickened near enough yet, Mrs. Holliman.”
“That’s fine, just keep a watch.” Emma turned back to Rhyan. “I wanted to get over to Sollano when I heard about you finding that gold. Liked to have gotten a gander at a pile of gold before you sent it off.”
“It was a sight, but you know a lot of it was already spoken for.”
“So you got enough to get back on your feet?”
“More than enough I think. I haven’t let out how much because you know how people are. Once they think you have money, they’re standing in line to get their share and then some.” He reached for his glass and grimaced again. Swearing under his breath, he pressed a hand to his midriff. “One of the men accidentally hit me with a shovel.”
“Probably bruised some ribs. You see the doctor yet?”
“No, it wasn’t bothering me much yesterday. I shouldn’t have ridden over here. That’s when it started.”
“Maybe we ought to get Milton to look at you.” Emma put her hand to the side of her mouth and let out a holler. “Harriet, go out to the barn and tell Milton to come in here.”
A muffled “Yes ma’am,” came back.
“Emma, you take your mothering too seriously.”
She reached over to pat him on the knee. “Mothering has nothing to do with it. I’d do the same for any fellow who came up to me looking as green as a gourd in high summer.”
Rhyan took a long swig of the lemonade. “Why does Colt have to help Tom? Looks like he’d want to be here putting his horses through their paces for the Fourth.”
“Between you and me, it’s just an excuse, so he can have supper at the Amersons and see Carianne. He’s going to be working with Tom every day this week, and Carianne dines with them most days.”
Another nagging pain caught his breath. “Why does he need excuses? If he wants to court Carianne, why not announce it?”
Emma shrugged. “You know Colt as well as I do.” She lowered her voice. “He’s more serious than he lets on, though. The other night he asked if I’d be willing to move out of the master bedroom and help redecorate it for him. Bring in new furniture. Wanted me to get Carianne to help me.”
With a chuckle, she pushed back in her chair. “He didn’t have to paint me a picture. I been watching those two in church, sharing the hymn book and all. But I have to admit, Carianne surprised me. I thought she’d never look at another man, after you.” Emma gave him a searching glance. “She don’t hardly mention you at all anymore.”
He knew she was baiting him, and he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. “Maybe it’ll work out for them. You’re pleased about it, I guess.”
“Pleased? Honey, I’m tickled pink. Just think of it. This time next year I might have another grandbaby, and I won’t have to leave this one.” She laughed again. “Yep, I’m tickled pink.”
He coughed down the nausea that threatened to choke him, and fortunately was saved from having to respond when a stocky, mustached man opened the door. Emma waved him over.
“Go ahead and open your shirt, honey pot,” she told Rhyan. “Just lay down on the sofa.”
He went to the sofa as Milton walked up, but hesitated, suddenly afraid of what this quack might do.
“Open the shirt,” Emma repeated. “I’ve seen your manly chest before. Remember I nursed you
through the flu once.”
Rhyan slowly unbuttoned the shirt without comment. Milton squatted before him and began probing where a bruise spread across the right of the chest. Rhyan abruptly jerked and uttered an expletive he couldn’t hold back.
“Sorry,” Milton said, standing.
“You think he needs a doctor?” Emma asked.
Rhyan tried to get up, but it hurt too much. “Can’t you bind it?” Why hadn’t he stayed at home like he ought to?
Milton bent over at the waist to get another look. “I’d see a doctor if it was me. I knew a man who got kicked by a mule in about that same place. Thought he just had a broke rib, but he dropped dead that night. Doc said a blood clot probably formed in the lung.” Milton straightened and snapped his fingers. “He died just like that.”
Rhyan glared at the man. Yeah, it would just be his luck to find a fortune in gold and then drop dead. “All right. I’ll go on home and send for Dr. Eckerd.” He tried to rise, but the pain knocked him back down.
Emma shot up and stood in front of him as if to block any attempt he might try to get away. “You ain’t going anywhere, cowboy. Milt, ride into town and send the doctor here.”
***
This had seemed like such a good idea, but as Carianne climbed up the wide steps of Sollano’s portico, a knot of apprehension tightened in her stomach. By the time the story of Rhyan’s getting hurt had made its rounds, he was at death’s door. She had to see for herself. Good thing Martha Amerson was at her side, though. For some unaccountable reason she felt shy about seeing Rhyan like this.
Martha applied the brass knocker and after a few seconds, the heavy oak door swung open. “Carianne. Martha.” Maria embraced them as they trooped inside.
“Is Rhyan in?” Martha asked. “We brought him a get-well basket.”
“How thoughtful. Yes, he’s out back fiddling with his telescope.” Maria laughed. “You know how Rhyan is. He can’t be still. The doctor said he only has bruised ribs, but made him promise to stick around the house for a couple of days.”
“So he’s not badly hurt?” Carianne felt her apprehension melt away like ice in July.
“Not too bad. Go on out to the screened-in porch. You know the way.”
Indeed she did. Too well. “This way, Martha.”
Rhyan stood with his back to them, working on some contraption with what looked like an elongated scope attached to it. It reminded Carianne of the telescope in the tower, and in a flash of remembrance, she sucked in an audible breath.
He turned at the sound and surprise showed in his handsome features. “Ladies, come in.” In hurried strides, he crossed the room.
Martha offered her basket tied with its festive ribbon. “I brought you a jelly roll. I remembered you favor strawberry.”
He took the basket and sniffed. “Smells wonderful, and I doubt anyone else will get any of it.” His smile hitched, throwing those double laugh lines and dimple into view and forcing Carianne to look away.
“Let’s be seated, shall we.” He led them to the sofa that faced the garden.
Not that sofa.
Carianne couldn’t get her legs to move. This was the very place her heart had melted as he kissed her for the first time. A kiss so moving it would haunt her the rest of her life. For eternity. Even now the memory of that kiss sent a lump to her throat. Passionate. Tender. Loving.
Rubbing her neck with her fingertips, she prevented the emotion from rising to her lips. She couldn’t sit where he’d proposed to her. And she’d accepted. The happiest day of her life. Didn’t he remember? Or care? Obviously not, since he sat on the end of the sofa without a jot of care.
She made her way to a slatted chair.
“We can’t stay long.” Martha sat on the other end of the sofa. “Tell us about the excitement.”
“Excitement?” Rhyan glanced from Martha to Carianne. “Oh, you mean finding the gold. It was exciting to me, and I owe it all to Carianne.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“Sure I do. If you hadn’t told me about Grandpa’s message in the book that gold would’ve stayed buried for centuries maybe. It might have been discovered by some future civilization.” He started to laugh and cut it short. “Do you know, laughing still hurts?”
“Then don’t laugh.” Certainly she saw nothing funny.
He looked over her head, and she heard Maria from behind. “Do you folks want some refreshment? I forgot to ask.”
Carianne shifted around in her chair. “No, not me.” She glanced back to Martha, who shook her head.
Maria smiled. “Martha, would you come by the sewing room before you leave. I’m working on that pattern you lent me—for the shirtwaist. I’m stuck.”
Martha pulled herself up. “I’d be glad to. I’ll go right now.”
Rhyan stood as Martha rose. “Maria, take my jelly roll and put it away for later.” He handed the basket to Maria. After sinking back down on the sofa, he gave Carianne a searching glance, one that made her uncomfortable. “I do want to thank you for finding that book, but how did you know?”
“I don’t know how I knew any more than I know how the wind blows, whether it blows hard or gentle.”
“You know enough about physics to know how the wind blows, the heat of the earth and all that.”
“I know what causes it to blow, but not how it was set up to do that, and neither do you.”
He must have read the annoyance in her voice because he stared at the floor. “Did the Spirit tell you?”
The cadence of his voice was surprisingly sober. The absence of his usual mockery made her soften her tone. “I believe so, I can’t think from where else it came.” Since she had his attention, she decided to press on. “I was praying for an answer. Why should I be surprised when I got an answer?”
He got up and walked to the window. “You’re fortunate God listens to you. Shows He cares for you.”
She rose without thinking and crossed the room to where he stood. “You’re the one who benefited. I think that shows He cares for you.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Do you love Colt?”
So like him to change the subject when she spoke of the Spirit. The question startled her, and she had to grapple with her thoughts for a moment. “Of course, I’ve always loved him as a friend.”
He’d been staring out the window, but now shifted his gaze to bore into her. “I don’t mean as a friend. Would you marry him?”
“I’ve always thought friendship is a good thing to base a marriage on, but Colt hasn’t asked me to marry him yet.”
“He probably will, and I don’t think I can stay around to see it happen.”
They were close enough she noticed the dark smudges under his eyes, making them blacker, deeper. Too dangerous. Was he trying to say he cared that she marry Colt? “You intend to leave Sollano?” She kept her voice light.
With a smile so slight it barely touched his lips, he turned to focus once more out the window to the ornamental pond. “When I thought I might lose the ranch, I hated the thought of leaving. Now, I rather look forward to it.”
She knew he lied, and this wasn’t the first time he’d lied to her—lied as he had to other women. He’d claimed to love her, asked to marry her, then when she’d given him her love, he’d thrown it back in her face. Even with all that being true, if he’d give her one hint of contrition, one move toward repentance, she’d be all over him.
His demeanor puzzled her. For a man who’d just found a fortune in gold, he looked decidedly morose. She missed his teasing almost as much as his love. But maybe his injury pained him more than he let on.
“I’m glad to find you weren’t seriously hurt. Good thing that fellow didn’t hit you in the head.” She forced a playful note and touched his arm. His glance fell to where her hand rested, and she added, “Will you be moving to Washington? I hear Abby is now available.”
She finally got his hackles to rise. He backed up outside her reach. “What does Abby have to do
with it?”
“You were in love with her at one time, were you not?”
“I suppose I still do care for her—as a friend,” he put emphasis on the last word. “But no, I’m not going to Washington. I’ll return to California.”
Elation surged through her before she remembered his feelings for Abby meant nothing to her. Then the full impact of what he’d said hit her. Return? He hadn’t lived in California since he was a boy, but he did have a brother in San Francisco. Perhaps he only meant to visit. “What about Sollano?”
His shoulders slacked in that old way he had of showing her his annoyance. “Sollano doesn’t need me. The owner of a ranch this size is the most dispensable person on the land.”
Before she could form a retort to that ridiculous statement, Martha called her from the other room. “Carianne, we’d better be going, dear. We have two more stops before going home.”
She moistened her lips, still wanting to argue. His narrowed gaze met her stare and held for a long moment. “You’re wrong. You are needed and…and everyone will miss you.” She turned with a swish of skirts and rushed to catch up with Martha.
Chapter 21
Carrie Ann and Colt slipped into the darkening June night. Chirping and humming filled the air and moths swirled around the streetlight at the end of the Amerson’s front walk. She grasped Colt’s hand to keep from tripping on the uneven ground as they walked across the yard to her house.
His warm, calloused hardened hand radiated comfort. She could find strength and stability here. Perhaps she could fall in love with him. He might not evoke the excited giddiness of Rhyan’s touch, but there was much to be said of warmth, steadiness, and dependability.
“So you really think my plan to buy the saloon wasn’t crazy?” she asked.
“No, it’s a great idea. Molly had to sell. Prohibition will force her out anyway. She gave you a good price too.”
“Do you think prohibition will do any good?”
“Yeah, at first, until they figure how to get around it. Men who want whiskey will find a way. Look at how Molly’s girls operate. That’s illegal too, but it happens.”
Surrendered (Intrique Under Western Skies Book 2) Page 20