UNWRAPPING THE RANCHER'S SECRET

by ROBINSON, LAURI

  “If I simply wanted money, I would have gone to my father and asked for it.” Letting on how much Sara had come to mean to him would make him too vulnerable. The fact he was here already said plenty. Not wanting the man to gain any leverage, Crofton propped one foot on his opposite knee to look less perturbed. “I’m here to make sure my father’s business continues on just as he would have wanted it to.”

  Levi lifted a brow. “And you don’t believe your stepsister can do that on her own?”

  Crofton let the question stir his thoughts for a moment. In the end, he couldn’t lie or belittle Sara. He wouldn’t want anyone to do that. “Sara is a very capable and smart woman, with an extremely sharp mind.”

  “But?”

  “But, I’m not convinced anyone will give her the chance. Including you.”

  Levi leaned forward. “Me?”

  “Most everyone seems to believe that Sara is some sort of American princess, sitting in her ivory tower above Royalton embroidering samplers with gold thread and hosting tea parties.” That analogy had come directly from one of the mill workers when the man had heard Sara would be passing out the wages. Crofton had let it be known then that insulting Sara would get a person nowhere, and would so again. “My father may have kept her protected from many things, but work wasn’t one of them. She knows as much about your contracts as you and I do.”

  Levi opened his mouth, but closed it. After leaning back in his chair again, he said, “Morton seems to think she doesn’t know anything.”

  “Because he doesn’t want her to know, and he’d like to keep it that way. If there is one man who is after Parks’s money, it’s Bugsley Morton.”

  “The two of you seem to be in conflict with one another.”

  Crofton dropped his foot to the floor and leaned forward. “I’m not here to discuss Morton. Tell me what you want, and I’ll tell you if it’s obtainable.”

  One side of Levi’s mouth curled into a grin. “You are a lot like your old man.”

  The man was fishing, and Crofton was in no mood to get caught. “I’ve had worse insults, and I’ve heard worse lies.” When Levi remained silent, Crofton continued, “The mountains of Colorado are far more difficult to build through than the terrain in New Mexico and Arizona.” His sixth sense had kicked in strong enough to curdle his stomach. Listening to it, he chose to bluff. “I’d hate to have to fulfill my father’s threat. Sara has her heart set on seeing Parks Lumber build the line well beyond the border.”

  Levi wasn’t a large man, but had grown portly from sitting behind a desk and even the drooping jowls beneath his graying beard paled as the man swallowed. He was hiding something dark and deep.

  Continuing his con, Crofton said, “As you said, I’m a lot like my father. Just like him, I run a clean business. I won’t have schemes or corruption defiling my family or the family name. My father didn’t want a pirate at the helm, and I don’t, either.”

  Levi squirmed in his chair before saying, “It’s been taken care of, your father saw to that.”

  He’d like specifics to work with, but Crofton couldn’t risk his bluff being called. On a whim, he rubbed the handle of the pistol he’d taken from Woody. “Not all of it. I also won’t let anyone take advantage of Sara.” As a second thought, he added, “There will be no more accidents. No more people shot in the back.”

  Levi’s eyes widened. “The railroad didn’t have anything to do with Winston’s accident or the shooting of your friend.”

  “I can’t say I’m ready to believe that,” Crofton said, standing up. “But I do know I’ve had enough, and I guarantee this scheme you and Morton are attempting to pull off will be your downfall. Take a look around because all this finery will soon be gone. You’ll be sitting in a jail cell before I’m done. Nothing will stop me. Not you. Not your railroad. And certainly not Morton. Now, where is Sara?”

  The way Levi glanced at the door sent a shiver up Crofton’s spine as hot as it was cold.

  “Think of what my father would have done if something happened to her.” When Levi turned his way, Crofton added, “Now multiply it by ten.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sara pulled the blanket Josiah Westerlund had given her tighter around her shoulder. Josiah had also added wood to the stove in the center of the tent before he’d left, but the heat wasn’t helping the chill inside her. If it meant saving Crofton’s life, she’d marry the devil himself. Bugsley promised the marriage was just for the railroad workers, and once everything was settled, he’d provide her with a divorce. So that someday she could marry a man for love.

  Love. That wouldn’t happen. The only man she’d want to marry, the only one who would meet Winston’s standards of the best of the best, was already in love with someone else. Already married to someone else.

  Her entire being hurt. The pain wasn’t caused by anything physical. It all came from inside her. It just didn’t seem fair. Didn’t seem right.

  She could accept fulfilling Winston’s dream, maintaining jobs for so many in Royalton, and running the mill until her dying day, but she couldn’t accept taking away Crofton’s shares. Married or not, half of all Winston owned was rightfully his.

  Grief as solid and raw as when her parents died washed over her. Why hadn’t he told her he was married? Or told Amelia?

  Maybe he had told Amelia and the two of them had chosen not to tell her. If that was the case, why had he kissed her like he had last night? That had been more than a peck on the forehead. The memory once again filled her mind, her entire being, until unshed tears burned her eyes.

  She took a deep breath and pressed a hand firmly against her rolling stomach. She was still wearing her mother’s suit, and though donning it had felt wonderful this morning, now it felt wrong. Like her mother wouldn’t approve of what was happening.

  Sara closed her eyes while biting her quivering lips together. Mother would never have approved. Neither would Winston.

  The sound of men gathering outside the tent was muffled only by the wind that made the canvas billow, and as she listened, a shift happened inside her.

  She might not have been Winston’s blood daughter, never truly owned the last name of Parks, but in her heart she was Sara Parks. It was time she put to use all the knowledge she had gained from the man who’d chosen to be her father. Chosen to love her.

  Turning to Bugsley who sat in a chair near the table, examining the maps lying there, she said, “I can’t do it.”

  “We’ve discussed—”

  “No,” she interrupted. “You discussed. You had a rebuttal for every protest I made. Have had since the accident.”

  Bugsley stood. “Because I’ve been trying to protect you, just as Winston would want.”

  Anger built where confusion had sat, and she shrugged off the blanket as she stood. “I no longer believe that, and don’t tell me what Winston would have wanted. This is no longer about Winston. It’s about me. It’s about Parks Lumber. And it’s about Crofton.”

  A gust of wind shook the tent, and as she turned toward the flap doorway that was separating, her heart skipped several beats as Crofton stormed into the tent. The joy of seeing him fused with alarm. His expression was as dark and menacing as his charge forward.

  Whatever he said eluded her as he stormed forward and punched Bugsley in the face.

  A scream tore out of her throat as Bugsley flew backward, knocking over the table and sending the maps in all directions.

  “What are you doing?” she shouted while catching a map before it landed on the woodstove.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Crofton shouted in return.

  She opened her mouth, but held her words as Josiah and another man picked Bugsley off the floor and hauled him out the door.

  The flap hadn’t fallen into place when Crofton grabbed both of her ar
ms. “Why the hell would you agree to marry him?”

  “I didn’t agree to marry him,” she retorted, squirming against his strength.

  “That’s not what I was told.”

  She didn’t have time to respond before Crofton squeezed her upper arms harder. “Lies,” he growled. “Why can’t you see he’s been lying to you all along?”

  Suddenly furious, she reacted before thinking. Wrenching an arm from his hold, she slapped his face. With fury raging, she stuck a finger near his nose. “Lies? Don’t tell me about lies. Not when you’ve been lying to me since you arrived.”

  “I have not.”

  With no particular place to go except away, she spun around. Heedless of the maps beneath her feet, she shouted, “Yes, you have.”

  “About what?”

  “Your wife for one.”

  Crofton bounded around the stove and once again grabbed her arms. “I’m not married. What the hell? I get a letter from a woman and the entire territory thinks I’m married?” He gave her a slight shake. “I’m not married to June or anyone else.”

  Rattled slightly, Sara shook her head. “You aren’t?”

  “No, I’m not. But even if I was, why the hell would you marry Bugsley? He’s twice your age, among other things.”

  Sara was questioning the happiness exploding inside her when her eyes locked with Crofton’s. There was sincerity there, and disappointment. She could feel it more than see it. Regret made her stomach clench. “They told me the workers would revolt when they learned you’d been lying to them. That the only way to stop it was for me to marry Bugsley so he could contest Winston’s will.”

  “I haven’t been lying to anyone,” Crofton said quietly.

  “I know,” she answered, fighting back tears.

  Crofton’s smile was so gentle her throat constricted. “Come here,” he whispered while pulling her into his arms.

  She went willingly and wrapped her arms around his waist while burying her head in the fabric covering his chest. “I’m sorry. I kept thinking about Winston and my mother, and your friend. I didn’t want them to kill you, too. I couldn’t bear that.”

  “Shh,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “I’m not going to die. The killing is over. I promise you that.”

  She bit her lips to keep from sobbing as his hold tightened. His strength was overwhelming. Not just his muscles and brawn, but his powerful presence. It had eased her pain before, and was doing so again now, almost as if he shared his dominance with her, making her strong inside, too.

  As she felt it completely filling her, he stepped back and lifted her chin with one hand. “Better?”

  She nodded.

  He kissed her then. A swift movement that took her by surprise and stole away all rational thoughts. The action was as powerful as him. It too filled her, consumed her, with something more potent than strength. Desiring more, she parted her lips, and the pleasure of his taste, how his tongue teased and encouraged hers to twist with his caused a groan to rumble in the back of her throat. Her breasts tingled, and she pressed them more firmly against his chest. The connection was bittersweet. It filled her with an inconceivable pleasure that was close to being painful in the most spectacular way.

  The kiss burgeoned until her head spun and her heart raced. She was lightheaded and breathless by the time the kiss had slowed to the point their lips were merely pressed against one another’s. Drawing a deep breath, she tugged her eyes open, but closed them again as he pressed her head against his chest again.

  Sighing deeply, she stood there, satisfied, yet yearning for more.

  “Mr. Parks?”

  Crofton kissed the top of her head once more before he released her and turned about. “Come in, Josiah.”

  Sara gathered her strength and stepped up to stand beside Crofton as Josiah entered through the flap.

  “The men have gathered,” Josiah said. “Waiting for the announcement Mr. Morton said Miss Parks was here to deliver to them. Should I tell them to go back to work?”

  “No,” she said.

  Crofton took her arm.

  She smiled at the confusion in his eyes, and then at Josiah. “I have something to tell them.”

  “Sara—”

  “Come with me,” she told Crofton as she started for the door.

  He followed and stood beside her as she stopped near the edge of the wooden platform the tent was built upon.

  Taking a deep breath, when she spied Mr. Lincoln and Bugsley near the edge of the large crowd of workers she pulled up a smile. “Parks Lumber has had some setbacks the past few weeks, but you, all of you, working so diligently haven’t let any of it hamper your accomplishments. We appreciate that very much, and would like to invite all of you to our annual Christmas party this Sunday.”

  Silence mingled for a moment, leaving nothing to echo in her ears except the wind. Questioning if none of them would be able to attend, she added, “It’ll last all day, so I’m hoping you’ll be able to fit an hour or so into your schedule.”

  Josiah, who stood on the other side of Crofton, said, “We will fit it into our schedule, Miss Parks.”

  Crofton grasped Sara’s hand while glaring at Levi. Even while anger had erupted inside him, he’d never been so thankful to see someone as when he’d opened the flap to Josiah’s tent. Nor had he ever been so furious at someone as he had been Morton. And he’d never been so proud of someone as he was of Sara at this moment. Squeezing her hand, he said, “The time will not be docked from your pay, will it, Mr. Lincoln?”

  “No,” Levi Lincoln shouted over the mumbles that had started. “It will not. Thank you, Miss Parks. Your invitation is a great honor for all of us. The Sante Fe Railroad is proud of our relationship with Parks Lumber and looks forward to it continuing for many years to come.”

  The crowd cheered, but it was the smile on Sara’s face as she looked up at him that filled Crofton with something he may never have felt before. It went beyond approval, beyond satisfaction. The desire to pull her into his arms and kiss her again was as strong as it had been inside the tent. He couldn’t do that. Shouldn’t have inside the tent. Everyone here thought of her as his sister. Except for him.

  “Come,” he said next to her ear. “It’s time for us to head to town. Before we get snowed in.”

  The flakes had grown and were falling faster now than before.

  “I sent your engine back,” Josiah said. “But the worker train is ready to head out.”

  “Thanks,” Crofton said as he guided Sara off the platform.

  “I hope you’ll be at the party, Mr. Westerlund,” Sara said.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for nothing,” Josiah responded. “Thank you for inviting all of us. It’ll go a long way with these men.”

  She nodded, and Crofton couldn’t stop the smile that formed, or the pride that continued to grow inside him as they crossed the snow-covered ground.

  Levi Lincoln met them at the worker train. “I do hope your invitation includes me, Miss Parks. What I said is true. The Sante Fe Railroad would like to continue our relationship with Parks Lumber for many years.”

  Sara stiffened slightly, causing Crofton to rub the small of her back where his hand had settled as they’d walked.

  “No matter who is in charge?” she asked Levi.

  The man nodded.

  Crofton didn’t miss how Sara’s gaze briefly flashed toward Morton, who was standing near Lincoln’s private car.

  “Then of course the invitation includes you, Mr. Lincoln,” she said. “We’ll see you on Sunday.”

  Woody Wilson, who’d been standing behind Lincoln, stepped forward. “Mr. Parks, can I get my piece back?”

  Understanding a man’s gun could be considered his best friend, Crofton pulled the gun from his waistband. Letting the other man know
, gun or no gun, he wasn’t a threat, Crofton warned, “Tread carefully, Woody.”

  Woody nodded and walked away. Crofton escorted Sara onto the train and found a place for them near the small stove at the back of the car. They’d no sooner sat down than a worker approached.

  “Can I offer you my coat, Miss Parks?” the man asked.

  The flare inside Crofton wasn’t surprising, but it should have been. The worker was merely being kind.

  “No, thank you, though,” Sara said. “You’ll need it. The ride will be cold.”

  “Excuse me,” another man said, shouldering his way past the first. Holding out a blanket, he said, “Mr. Westerlund asked me to give this to you, Miss Parks. I’ll see he gets it back tomorrow.”

  She took the blanket. “Thank you. That was so kind of him, and you.”

  Her smile made the man’s cheeks turn red. Ducking his head, the man turned about and scurried to a seat.

  Sara spread the blanket over her lap and Crofton’s, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders as the train jostled everyone as it jolted forward. For the briefest of moments, Crofton wondered who was going to catch him. The look in her eyes did more than jolt his insides. He held his breath in order to fight the desire to kiss her, taste her again.

  The car’s movement became smoother and the clanging and banging grew into a steady rumble as the train speed increased. Her eyes were still locked on him, still glistening with an intensity that stirred his insides.

  “I’m not exactly sure what happened today.”

  Her voice was whispery soft, or merely shrouded by the train noise and the thundering of his heart. Unfortunately, Crofton understood what had happened. Or at least he could no longer deny it. He’d fallen in love with her. Loved her. The flare inside him caused by the man offering her his coat had been jealousy. He hadn’t known what it was, what it felt like, until he’d barreled inside the tent and come face-to-face with Morton. He’d been jealous of the man since he’d seen him escort Sara down the mortuary steps. Might have been before then. Knowing Morton had been Winston’s right-hand man is probably what had started the jealousy, and Sara’s unrelenting trust in the man had fueled it.