“You figured me wrong. I can trust Carianne to follow God’s calling. If she does that, she won’t neglect her family.”
Such reasoning was sure to endear Carianne to Colt. It should be obvious to anyone they were perfectly suited to one another. But it still left a sour taste in his mouth.
Colt got up. “I have to be going. You want to give me the money to repay Carianne?”
It took Rhyan a moment to understand what Colt meant. He wondered if his brain was still under the influence of whiskey. “Oh, sure. The safe’s in my office.”
He trailed Colt down the stairs, through the hall to the office. It was still chaotic with the remaining cabinets standing askew and files strewn about. He squatted at the safe and retrieved the money, not even stopping to record it.
Colt took the bills, but instead of taking his leave, stood rooted to the floor. “Rhyan, is something wrong?”
Rhyan took in his friend’s features, taunt with concern, and it rubbed him the wrong way. “Why should anything be wrong?” Getting up from the squatting position had sent a blinding sensation to his head, He rubbed his brow to ease the pounding.
“I just get the feeling you’re not yourself. You’re not happy, and you have every reason to be.”
Rhyan forced a smile. “I am happy.”
Colt flipped through the bills. “No you’re not, but why not? The senator who gave you so much trouble is dead. All his henchmen are either on the run or in prison. Your reputation has been restored. I read two favorable newspaper articles about you and Sollano this week.
“I thought maybe the episode in the bar last night was just your way of celebrating, but there’s more to it than that.” He shook his head. “I expected to find you elated.”
If that was all that mattered, he would be happy. His reputation meant nothing if there was no future to work for. Political office no longer held any appeal. He didn’t know why everything was suddenly meaningless, but it was.
“I had to spend over an hour this morning explaining to Pastor Hal I’m perfectly fine. What does it take to convince you all there’s nothing wrong with me?”
Silence stretched to the point of oppression. Rhyan was ready to push Colt out the door when his friend lifted his shoulders with another head shake. “It’s like this. When something bad happens to a fellow, you expect him to get down in the mouth, but when something good happens, and he acts low and does things out of character, it makes you think something must be wrong.” He stepped backwards, grabbing the doorknob. “You know I’m your friend. You can tell me anything. Maybe I could help.”
How could he tell Colt the truth? While he couldn’t marry Carianne, he didn’t want Colt to. If she’d just left town like he suggested, everything would’ve gone back to normal. While she remained, he’d be tempted every time he saw her.
I’m afraid the time might come when I’d seduce your wife.
Maybe he should tell Colt the only way he could help would be to get Carianne to leave town. Once she was out of the picture, he could get on with his life. But Colt wouldn’t do that. No, he would marry her and dangle their happiness in his face. “I don’t need any help” His tone sounded harsher than he’d meant.
“Well, if you do feel like talking, let me know.” Colt didn’t bother to close the door as he left.
Rhyan fell to straightening the office. He had to do something physical. If his head wasn’t still pounding, he’d have gone to chop some wood. Anything to lessen the sense of helplessness. Colt would marry Carianne, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. In fact, he shouldn’t want to.
They were perfect for each other, he reminded himself for the hundredth time.
No way could he compete with Colt, and he owed him too much to even try. Besides, after last night, hadn’t he proved his friend was the better man? He’d set Colt up to play the hero, going out to face those thugs, unarmed no less, while he, Rhyan, was…a drunken fool. Given a choice like that, who would any woman choose?
He finished with the office and stepped into the library. Her scent seemed to permeate the air. How could she choose another man when they’d shared such intimacy? Nothing physical. Deeper than that. They had become one in spirit. It was infidelity for her to turn to another.
Uncomfortably, the annoying voice in the inner reaches of his mind brought him back to his own adulterous past. He’d never considered the wronged husband except that he be kept in ignorance. Had never given a thought to why Abby’s husband drank.
Just because Abby hadn’t cared, that didn’t mean her husband wasn’t affected. Had the pain of his wife turning to a handsome young man without scruples driven him to drink?
You reap what you sow.
He had to get out of here, out of the house. He’d ride over the range until exhausted, until he could no longer think.
***
She drifted in a nether world, knowing she was asleep, but unable to break into consciousness. Anxiety coiled around her feet, slowing her progress through Abel Farmer’s cornfield.
The lion stalked her, but she knew not where he was. Cornstalks rustled against a perfect blue sky, as loud as alarm bells, and escalating the fear choking her.
In a flash, the great beast bounded past her, the stalks bending as the earth shook under his thundering paws.
Her attention jerked to the endless row in front and caught sight of Rhyan. He wasn’t walking away, but crouched on the ground much as he had at his father’s grave. His profile was in view, and she hoped he’d glance her way, so she could warn him.
But her screams were to no avail. He refused to move or look up, even as the beast gained ground rapidly. The faster the animal closed in, the further she seemed to fall behind.
Rhyan run! Rhyan! Rhyan!
Her shouts went unheeded. She tried to reach out, but her hands refused to move. Was she doomed to watch that vicious creature tear him apart before her eyes? All hope left her. She fell to the ground, still yelling his name.
Her screams woke her. She lay grasping, her heart pounding in her ears. After normal breathing returned, she lit the lamp beside her bed with shaking fingers and pushed the clock into view. She’d been in bed only an hour.
It would be a long night.
Getting up, she slipped her feet into crocheted slippers and went to the kitchen. Perhaps a cup of hot tea would calm her nerves. Nothing else had—not even prayer. So far God was silent. Her petitions sounded hollow and brought no peace. Yet who but God could save Rhyan?
These nightmares were no idle fancy. Satan stalked in the same ominous fashion through the spiritual world surrounding them as did the lion of her nightmares.
She needed to know what was happening with Rhyan.
Colt would know, and he was coming tomorrow, but she wished he was here now. A longing to hear his calm voice settled over her. He could make her feel safe. Whether she could ever marry him or not, she didn’t know, but right now, in the eerie silence of the night, she needed him.
Chapter 23
Rhyan sat at the piano, running his fingers over the chords of a Chopin arrangement. This was the only way to keep the tormenting pricks of his conscience at bay. The music was the only thing left that soothed him.
Keeping his right hand in play, he rubbed his chin with his left. A three-day beard itched, but he had no plans to shave or bathe or change clothes for that matter. He didn’t care what he looked like, didn’t care what anyone thought.
During the last several days, he’d wrapped up with ranch business. Nothing kept him here. He should be on his way to San Francisco. Do some fishing in the bay. Renew old acquaintances.
Knowing the next notes by heart, he tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. Reluctance kept him here. In this house. In this room. Like a man with nothing left to feel but pain, he stayed for the torture.
Every room, even this one, still held her presence. Her musical laughter echoed through the halls. The memory was a burr he couldn’t shake, and he was at the
point he didn’t even try.
Hinges squeaked, alerting him someone was at the door. “Maria told me I’d find you in here,” Carlos said. Did he have to be told? Anyone could hear the music.
Rhyan continued playing until he came to the end of the piece. “What do you want?” He swiveled around in the seat.
“That shipper in New York wants your decision.”
Wasn’t that why he’d hired Carlos, to make decisions? He gritted his teeth to hold back the brutal retort. “Give them a decision.”
“I don’t know what price you’re willing to take or how many head you’ll sell. You know we’ve talked about this all year. They ship to Europe and have commitments. They can’t wait.”
“So don’t let them wait,” he yelled. “You know cattle better than I do, give them a price, give them a count. You’re my manager, so…manage. I want to be left alone.” His harshness towards Carlos was unwarranted, but he didn’t care. He turned around and flipped through the music.
“Rhyan, what’s the matter?” Carlos’s tone was sympathetic. He hadn’t used his given name since Rhyan’s father died, when he’d become the official owner.
“Nothing’s the matter.” He put a piece by Mozart in place.
“You should see the doctor.”
He threw a piercing glance over his shoulder to Carlos. “What can a doctor do? Put me in a straitjacket and haul me off to an insane asylum?”
“No, certainly not, but you’re sick. Maria says you haven’t eaten in days.”
Rhyan ran his fingers over the keys, then lifted them to turn toward Carlos. “I won’t starve, if that’s what’s worrying her. Everyone, every living thing, has a natural instinct to live. When any animal gets hungry, it eats, when it needs air, it breathes. I’m still breathing. I’ll eat when I’m hungry.”
“I think you need help. What about Sollano? You’re the only one who knows how the market works. You make sure the government keeps our interest in mind. That helps other ranchers and farmers, whether they know it or not.”
Rhyan turned back to the piano. “I’m the most dispensable person on this ranch. If I weren’t here, it would continue on as before, perhaps better.” He began playing lightly, barely touching the keys. “I meet a lot of men who delude themselves into thinking they’re important, that they make a difference. The truth is they don’t. I’ve just accepted the truth.”
He picked up the tempo. “There is no real purpose in life, Carlos. As I’ve said, we’re all born with an instinct to survive, if we mature, we have an instinct to breed, to perpetrate the species. Same as cattle do. After we’ve done that, we have no purpose at all.”
“You’re a smarter man than I am,” Carlos said, “but I know there’s more purpose to life than that.”
Rhyan heard him leave with a soft thud of the closing door. He continued playing. Carlos was deluded too.
After he’d played all the pieces on the piano rack, he got up to pace the room. He didn’t want to leave it. Strangely, this room he’d avoided for so many years because of painful memories now offered him the only peace he could find.
He caught sight of himself in a mirrored panel. Aside from his crumpled shirt, beard and rumpled hair, his eyes were bloodshot with dark circles. No wonder Carlos thought he was crazy.
Maybe he should move his bed into this room. He remembered his grandmother had her bed in here the last year of her life. She’d been too feeble to climb stairs.
It was possible he might be able to get some sleep in here. He hadn’t slept more than two hours at a stretch for several nights. Not since he’d gotten drunk and wound up at Carianne’s.
But sleep wouldn’t help him now.
The rest of the morning he alternated between playing his grandmother’s favorite pieces and pacing about the room, recalling memories of a time when he saw evidence of love and believed in it.
He stood at the window, staring out with unseeing eyes when Colt entered the room. This was the last thing he needed. He swung around. “What do you want?”
“Nothing, I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Well, you’ve seen. Now you can be on your way.”
“Maria and Carlos are worried about you.”
“Maria and Carlos have better things to do.” He walked past Colt and went to the piano. Get some music started. Anything to drown him out.
“So do you.” Colt followed him to lean against the piano in front.
“The same could be said of you. Weren’t you going to propose to Carianne? Have you done that yet?”
“Not yet.”
“What are you waiting for? You’d better snatch at happiness while you can. It doesn’t last long.” Why was he even here when he could be spending time with his lady love?
“I intend to ask her this afternoon, as soon as I leave here, but what about you?”
“What about me? All I want is some peace and quiet.” He flexed his fingers. “Now will you leave me alone?”
“No, I won’t leave you alone. You’re not yourself, and I want to know why.”
Rhyan touched the keys. “Nothing is wrong with me. I just want some solitude.”
“And you won’t talk about it?”
Rhyan banged hard, sending the strident sound piercing the air. “There’s nothing to talk about. Now this is a complicated piece. I need to concentrate. Please leave.”
“Not until you promise me you’ll clean up, eat something, and get some sleep.”
Finally looking up, Rhyan shrugged. “If I promise you that, you’ll leave?”
Colt sighed. “For the time being. I’ll stop back by tonight though, and I’d better find you looking a whole lot better.” He paused as if wanting to say more before slapping Rhyan on the back and striding away.
Rhyan finished the Beethoven composition and began pacing again. Would Carianne and Colt find the kind of love his grandparents shared? A love so strong he still felt it in this room almost ten years after their deaths. Where did love come from? The question popped into his mind before he could prevent it.
God is love.
So what? If God was the source of love, He was very discriminating about whom He blessed. Giving it to his grandparents, but not to his parents. Giving it to Colt, but not to him. All God brought to him were doubts and guilt, constant reminders of his failings and a desolate future he must endure.
He’d finished all the compositions tucked away under the hinged piano seat. Sunlight slanting through the tall window told him the afternoon was waning fast. He’d played all day since early morning. With tired fingers, he closed the piano keys.
It was just as well. The time had come.
Numbness stole over him as he strode to the office. It looked empty except for a couple of cabinets and the massive oak desk. The chair was gone, but he didn’t need it.
There were three items inside the center desk drawer. One was a new will in which he’d left Sollano and everything it contained to Colt. He could keep it or sell it as he wished, though if he married Carianne, he’d keep it. She loved Sollano.
Sollano meant nothing to Rhyan. Strange to admit that, considering how hard he’d fought to save it during the grasshopper years. Before that, he’d fought the speculators to save it. He’d fought his own father, but he couldn’t think of that now.
He’d always won in the end, even this last battle with his political enemies. Now the victories meant nothing.
What does it profit to gain the whole world and lose your own soul?
He found the second item in the drawer and pulled it out—his revolver. Breaking the gun open with a sharp snap, he checked each chamber. Only one missing. Normally, the first chamber was kept empty, otherwise, the gun might accidentally discharge without being cocked.
It had to be fully loaded.
The third item was a box of bullets. He inserted a bullet in the empty chamber and double checked. All six bullets were there.
That was important since the nerve to pull the trigger onc
e might not last for a second time.
With a flick, he closed the pistol and shoved it into the waistband of his pants. It was time to go. A long ride lay ahead of him.
Chapter 24
With the sunlight streaming over her and Colt’s firm grasp holding her hand, it was easy for Carianne to believe God had everything in control. The world would turn as always, all would be well.
As if to disabuse her of that assumption, a couple of squabbling wrens settled on a branch in the cottonwood canopy overhead.
She stopped to look up. “All life’s a struggle, isn’t it?”
Colt followed her gaze. His jaw tightened a split second before he laughed. “There’s a lot of happiness to be had as well.”
He was walking her home from the lawyer’s office where papers had been drawn up on her new properties. She had a lot to make her happy. The machinery to bring her plans to fruition was now in gear. It might fail, but even if it did, she’d learn from her mistakes and try something else. That was the way to success.
Why couldn’t she just be happy as nothing more than a rancher’s wife?
Now was a good time to look for the happy ending. Why couldn’t she accept it? She didn’t want to lose Colt. He was the only one who could chase away the hovering fears that crouched in whenever she gave herself a moment to think.
No. It wouldn’t work.
She’d tried to convince herself, but it wasn’t to be. He deserved a wife who’d love him with her whole heart, and hers wasn’t available. But how could she be honest with him? She’d run various scenarios through her head. Some serious, some silly. The silly ones were more truthful.
I have no plans for marriage, Colt, but I still want to monopolize your time, draw from your strength, and use you to get information about the man I really want.
I want us to remain friends, to do all the things we’ve been doing, but no kissing or anything romantic, because it makes me feel unfaithful to the man I want to kiss.
Surrendered (Intrique Under Western Skies Book 2) Page 22