by Sandra Brown
Lydia's loving concern brought on a fresh batch of tears that Banner struggled to hold back. What would her parents think of her if they could have seen her moving beneath Jake? Shame washed through her like a scarlet tide. "I don't really want anything, Mama, but thank you. I think I'll just stay in my room today."
Lydia took her hand and pressed it. "You came down last night. Was it so terrible?" She had hoped Banner would go right on living, climb right back into the saddle as the cowboys did after a bronco had thrown them.
"It's not that," Banner said evasively. "I need to spend today thinking about what I'm going to do."
Lydia drew her daughter into her arms and stroked her hair. "I would never have said this to you yesterday. Your wounds were too fresh. But now I want to tell you something, and I want you to take it in the spirit it's given." She paused for a moment, carefully selecting her words. "I'm relieved mat you didn't marry Grady."
Banner pushed herself away so she could better see her mother. "Why? I thought you liked him."
"I did. Very much. I always thought he was nice." Her amber eyes clouded. "Maybe that was it. He was too nice. I don't trust a man who doesn't have some deficiencies, some minor flaws."
Banner almost forgot her misery and laughed. "Mama, you're such a contradiction. Any other mother would be glad that her daughter was marrying a flawless young man like Grady."
"It's not that I would have been unhappy. I just didn't think he had much substance. Not enough for you anyway." Grady had always struck Lydia as being too soft for Banner. He wasn't strong-willed enough for her daughter. She had feared that in time Banner would grow bored with him, and Lydia couldn't imagine anything more threatening to a marriage. She and Ross fought, they loved, they laughed. Boredom had certainly never been a part of her life with him and she hadn't wanted that kind of nonexistence for her daughter.
She touched Banner's cheek lovingly. "I think you can do much better. I think there's someone absolutely wonderful waiting for you. I thought my life was over before I met Ross. He felt the same when Victoria died and left him with a newborn. We couldn't have predicted the second chance we got, and look at the marvelous life we've had together."
Banner's throat knotted with emotion. She hugged her mother so she wouldn't see the guilt Banner knew must be obvious upon close inspection. If there were a wonderful man waiting for her, he wouldn't have her now. She was tainted. Not by Jake. By herself.
Jake was a man. A virile man. If she had harbored any doubts about mat, they had been dispelled last night. She had provoked him beyond what a saint could withstand. He was blameless for what had happened. She wished she could transfer some of the burden of guilt to him, but she couldn't. She was fair, if nothing else. She had gotten exactly what she had asked for. It was she who must pay the price.
"Ross and I have been tallring," Lydia said. "We thought you might like to get away for a while. Take a trip. Someplace really exciting. St. Louis or New Orleans. Whatever—"
"No, Mama," Banner said, shaking her head. "That's not for me. I'll never run away and hide. This is Grady's disgrace, not mine, and I refuse to let him drive me away from the people and the home I love." She drew a deep, shuddering breath. "I want to assume ownership of my land. I want to move across the river and start ranching just as we planned."
Dumbfounded, Lydia gazed at her daughter. "But, darling, that's what you were going to do with Grady when you married. You, a single woman, can't do it alone." "I can and I intend to." Her voice carried conviction. It had come to Banner in the wee hours of the morning that there was only one way for her to save herself now and that was to exhaust herself with work, to pour herself into a project that would make demands on her physically and mentally, a project that would win her back her self-respect. "I must do this, Mama. You understand, don't you?"
Lydia sighed as she studied Banner's determined face. "I understand, but I'm not sure Ross will."
Banner clasped Lydia's hands. "Convince him, Mama. I can't sit here, idly waiting for another beau to materialize. I'm past that. I don't even want it. If I do nothing but continue being Ross and Lydia Coleman's poor unfortunate daughter whose wedding went awry, I'll wither and die. I need to do this."
"I'll talk to him," Lydia assured her quietly. "You rest. Are you sure you feel all right? You look pale."
"Yes, Mama, I'm fine. But tell Papa what I said. I'm anxious to make plans. The sooner I get busy, the better."
Lydia kissed her forehead. "I'll see what I can do. But don't act too impulsively, Banner. Don't make any rash decisions."
Why hadn't her mother cautioned her of that before last night? Would she have taken her advice? Banner honestly doubted it. "I know what I'm doing, Mama," she said softly, and only hoped it was true.
"I just don't want you to be too hard on yourself. Broken hearts take time to mend."
Lydia was referring to Grady. After last night, memories of what had taken place in the church seemed blurred around the edges. What had happened between Jake and her had reduced the significance of Grady's duplicity.
When Lydia left, Banner went to her dresser, took off the robe, and let her nightgown slide down her body to the floor. She dipped a cloth in the cool water and bathed her face, pressing the cloth to her burning, gritty eyes. When she couldn't avoid it any longer, she looked at her image in the mirror. It was remarkably unchanged, though she felt she had been irrevocably altered. Everything inside her had been scooped out, rearranged, reassembled, and put back into the same mold. But nothing was the same.
She touched her lips, hesitantly, reminiscent of the first time Jake had touched them with his. She touched her neck. A faint bruise, so light her own mother hadn't noticed it, brought memories rushing back on beating wings as rapid as those of a hummingbird.
It wasn't possible. She was remembering it all wrong. Jake hadn't touched her, kissed, her, possessed her the way she remembered. No.
But she was lying to herself. Her body told her so. Closing her eyes, she could still feel the steely pressure of him deep inside her, feel the soft soughing of his breath on her skin, feel the sweet persuasion of his lips on hers. No matter how hard she tried to forget, she couldn't. No matter how badly she wanted to block the memory from her mind, the fever in her blood wouldn't let her.
* * *
"Hey, Jake."
He entered the bunkhouse and made a beeline for the stove where a monstrous coffee pot was kept full and hot. "Yeah?" he growled as he poured the strong brew into a porcelain cup.
"Ross wants to see you as soon as you finish breakfast," one of the cowboys informed him. "He asked me to tell you.''
The cup was halted on its way to Jake's lips. "Did he say what he wanted?"
"Nope."
"Thanks."
Jake wouldn't have been surprised to be greeted this morning by the barrel of Ross's pistol. It was a certainty mat if Ross ever learned what happened in the barn last night, he would kill him, not even having any compunction about shooting him in the back.
Once, a few years ago, Lee had overheard one of the cowboys remarking on Banner's ripening figure. Lee had defended his sister's honor and the two had gotten into a scuffle. When Ross broke up the fight, the cowboy had been forced to repeat the crude comment. Ross was so furious he would have beaten the young man to death if Jake and several other hands hadn't pulled him off.
None of the women knew about the incident, but the men around River Bend never forgot it. They had always respected Ross as an employer and as a man, giving him wide berth when his temper flared. But after that day, they took pains not to look sideways at Banner no matter how tempting the sight. Those who had hired on since then were duly warned by their cohorts that the boss's daughter was sacred ground not to be trespassed upon.
Jake took a seat at the long trestle table and sipped the scalding coffee. He shook his head when Cookie offered him a plate of biscuits and bacon.
No, Ross didn't know about last night. If he did, Jake would alr
eady be dead. Not even his friendship with Ross would have protected him from a wrath incurred by his touching Banner.
But how in hell could he face the man? How? How did one face a friend when he had just violated his daughter?
He had defiled her, sweet little Banner.
Self-disgust almost sent the coffee he had swallowed back up.
"Heard you came through Fort Worth, Jake."
"Yep," he answered laconically.
"Visit Hell's Half Acre?" another of the wide-eyed cowboys asked.
Lee and Micah had furthered Jake's reputation with River Bend's hands and they considered him a legend. Most were too young to have gone on me long drives. The cowboys who had and were still around to tell about them were revered.
"I was there for a spell."
"How was it?"
"Rowdy."
"Yeah? You go to the Garden of Eden? Way I hear it, Madam Priscilla's got the finest whores in the state. Trained in New Orleans. Ain't that right?"
"New Orleans, huh?" Jake grinned at their gullibility. What was the sense of disillusioning them? "Yeah, I reckon a few of them were."
"Tumble any of 'em?"
"Hell, 'course he did," another said, scoffing at his Mend. "Ever' single one of 'em. Jake's like a tonic to them gals. I heard that since he left, Madam Priscilla ain't been able to wipe the smiles off their faces. Look plumb sappy, they do, walking around grinnin' like possums."
Those around the table laughed. Jake only shrugged and took another drink of his coffee. His reputation as a womanizer wasn't one he was especially proud of, though he had done all he could to earn it. He was accustomed to being teased about his prowess in the bedroom.
This morning he was too worried about his forthcoming interview with Ross to pay much attention to the familiar banter. Sex, or the lack of it, was often the topic of conversation with lonely cowboys who were frequently without female companionship for months on end. There wasn't a vulgar story that Jake hadn't heard, a lewd joke he hadn't repeated himself around one campfire or another. They no longer impressed him as they did some of the younger men, who chose to take them at face value and believe them.
The mild insults and exaggerated compliments went in one ear and out the other until one cowboy said, "How do you handle an off night like last night, Jake? Or did you manage to sneak a woman into the barn?"
Jake came out of the chair, drawing his pistol from its holster so fast that laughter died in the throats of the other men. His gun was but an inch from the hapless cowboy's nose when Jake asked through clenched teeth, "What do you mean by that?"
The other man swallowed a goose egg of fear. He had heard that the easygoing Jake Langston could be mean when he wanted to be, that his temper matched that of a rattler, and that he was no man to trifle with. Now he knew that to be a fact, and he wished like hell he had stuffed his, mouth with another of Cookie's biscuits instead of making the jibe that might cost him his life.
"N-nothin', Jake, nothin'. I was just funnin' with ya."
Jake could tell the man was telling the truth and he was suddenly embarrassed that he had lost his temper to the point of drawing a gun. Of course if the cowboy had breathed a word about seeing Banner going into the barn, Jake would have shot him before letting her reputation be compromised.
He eased the hammer of his pistol forward and returned it to the holster. "Sorry. Guess I'm not in a joking mood this morning." He grinned lopsidedly, but the former lightheart-edness around the table couldn't be recaptured. Gradually the men carried their plates to Cookie, who managed the kitchen in the bunkhouse, and taking up hats, gloves, and ropes, left for the day's work.
Jake drank one more cup of coffee. When he couldn't put it off any longer, he ambled toward the house. Anabeth and Lydia were sitting on the porch, watching the little Drummonds as they played in the yard.
"Morning," Jake said guardedly.
"Hi, Bubba," Anabeth said.
Lydia smiled up at him. "Good morning. We missed you at breakfast."
"I walked Stormy. He's still favoring that hoof."
"Have you eaten?"
He nodded, though it was a lie. "In the bunkhouse. Where is everybody?"
"Hector's helping Ma make a scarecrow to put in her corn," Anabeth said, smiling. "It was scaring the children so I brought them up here. Marynell's studying as usual."
Jake nodded without comment. His eyes roved toward the children who were playing leapfrog. "How... how's Banner?" It was a perfectly normal question. Everyone was concerned about her after yesterday. Neither his sister nor Lydia could read anything into it, unless they noted his tension as he asked.
"I went up to check on her awhile ago," Lydia said. "Her eyes are puffy. She must have cried all night." Lydia was looking at the youngest Drummond's efforts to scale his sister's back so she missed the quirk of regret that pinched one corner of Jake's lips. "We talked. I think with time she'll recover."
Guilt had a stranglehold on Jake and wouldn't let go. Banner might have recovered from Sheldon's shenanigans. But recover from last night? No. There was no getting over that. The damage he had inflicted on her was permanent. "Is Ross in the house? One of the men said he wanted to see me."
"He does," Lydia said, her eyes suddenly sparkling. "He's in his office."
Jake tipped his hat to the two women and sauntered across the porch and through the front door. "I'm worried about him," Anabeth said when he was out of hearing.
"Worried? Why?"
"Ever since Pa died and he ran off to sign up for that cattle drive, he's been like a stranger. Look at the way he lives. From hand to mouth with no prospects for anything better. I wish he'd settle down with a wife, have some kids and stop roaming all over the place. He's a grown man. He should act like one."
"Ma's worried about him too," Lydia remarked. "So am I."
"You know what?" Anabeth continued. "I don't think he ever got over Luke's murder. I know that sounds crazy. It's been nearly twenty years, but he hasn't been the same since then. Maybe if we had found out who the killer was and had seen justice done, Jake wouldn't have taken it so hard."
Lydia lowered her eyes to her lap. Jake knew who killed his brother—her stepbrother Clancey Russell. And he had exacted his own punishment, a death sentence. He had been sixteen when he took vengeance on Luke's murderer. That's what he had never gotten over, the murder of his brother. Lydia was the only person in the world who shared that secret with him. It was a bond between them that would never be broken.
Jake went down the shadowed hallway toward the back of the house and tapped on the doorjamb. He felt as awkward as he had when he first met Ross. The passing years and Jake's inevitable maturity had closed the gap between their ages. But guilt was making him as jumpy as a boy about to get a. thrashing.
"Ross."
Ross's dark head came up. He had been studying the pile of papers on his desk. "Come in, Jake, and have a seat. Thanks for coming over. Am I keeping you from anything?"
"No." He took the chair opposite the desk and tried to put on an air of normalcy by propping one ankle on the opposite knee. He took off his hat and sailed it onto the leather sofa against the wall. "I plan to spend most of the day with Ma."
"Good," Ross said solemnly. "She misses you."
"Yeah, I know." He sighed. It hadn't been fair, his leaving right after Pa died. But he couldn't take the farming life any longer. He would have gone crazy trying to scrape a decent crop out of that rocky ground that he had tried to convince both his parents was created for beef cattle. But all they had known was farming and there had been no changing their minds.
He felt guilty about having deserted his mother. He was the eldest son and therefore responsible for the family. Every time he got paid, he had sent money home, but he knew that she had needed him to be there with her more than she had needed his money.
He had wronged her. Now he met the eyes of the man whom he had wronged to an even greater degree. "What did you want to see me about, Ross?"
/>
"The usual. The same thing I see you about every time you come to River Bend. A job."
"My answer is the same. No."
"Why, Jake?"
Jake shifted restlessly in his chair. Always before his reason had been Lydia. Banner had hit the nail right on the head last night. He couldn't stay long at River Bend because he loved her too much. Sooner or later it would become obvious and that would destroy the friendship he shared with both her and Ross. It wasn't worth the risk. But now he had a new reason. He could never face Banner again.
He was solely to blame. She had come to him, yes. She had lured him, yes. But he had responded. And truthfully without much effort on her part. He had responded, hard and hot and hungry.
He was the elder; he knew better. She had been hurt, heartbroken, needing comfort and reassurance. She had come to him seeking one thing, yet asking for another. Still, knowing all that, blowing it was wrong, knowing he was sacrificing his friendship with the Colemans, he had taken her anyway.
God, she must despise him this morning. When it was over, she had cowered fearfully from his touch. She would hardly look at him, and when she had it was with the eyes of a trapped animal. Had he hurt her that much? Was she stilt in pain? Couldn't he have shown a little more gentleness? Oh, no, not him. Not the prince of the pleasure palaces. He bad gone at her savagely. Once he had entered her, he forgot that she was a virgin and untried.
Damn! She must think he was an animal. The sooner he was out of her life, the better. After he spent some time with Ma, he was clearing out. Today, if Stormy was up to leaving.
"I can't stay," he told Ross brusquely.
"I'd like to discuss it before you give me your final answer."
"Suit yourself. We're wasting your time, not mine."
"How 'bout some coffee?"
"No thanks."
"Whiskey?"
"No." Jake grinned. "What are you trying to do, bribe me?"
Ross grinned back. "If that's what it takes to get you to stay. You know I've wanted you to work with me since we parted company in Jefferson when the wagon train broke up."
"It was impossible then because of my folks. It's just as impossible now."