Zac acted like he thought she was crazy, but that didn't matter. Tyler didn't look like she'd just given the wrong answer to an important question, and she was really talking to him.
"All my life my father made every decision -- what I wore, what I did, even what I fixed for dinner. Mama always said he was very smart -- he graduated from Yale. I swore if I ever got the chance, I'd show him I was just as smart as he was."
"How were you going to do that?" Tyler asked.
"Get married and have my own home."
"Why get married?"
"I want to. Mother said every woman needs a husband to protect her and do things for her."
"Make up your mind," Zac said. "First you want to be your own boss, then you want to get married."
"If you get married with that attitude, you're giving up on yourself," Tyler said.
"What else can I do?"
"You have a ranch and a gold mine."
"They're both worthless. Besides, I don't know how to run a ranch."
"You can learn. My family did."
"It's easier for a man," Daisy said.
"Maybe, but you're smarter than most men."
Tyler's answer stunned Daisy. No one had ever considered her intelligence an advantage. Even Guy Cochrane, the least domineering man she knew, considered it no more than something to be tolerated. No one had ever suggested she actually put it to use, especially not to learn how to run her own ranch.
On days when her father was away at his mines, she would sometimes spend hours imagining what she would do when she had her own home. The more tyrannical and unkind he got, the greater her need to escape him, to learn to feel some self worth.
But since she was poor, she never expected to have any real control of her life. She saw marriage as only a partial escape, but the only route open to her. Now her father's death had freed her from his domination, but it hadn't provided her with an income. It had possibly given her the means of making her own living, but now that she was faced with the opportunity for total freedom, the idea frightened her. She was ignorant of just about everything she needed to know to survive. Marriage to a kind and understanding man seemed safer.
But Tyler seemed to think she could learn. She wondered if he could be right.
He was asking her to look at herself in a whole different way. She didn't know if she had the courage. She had never liked having someone else control her life, but it terrified her to think of being completely on her own.
Yet a tiny sliver of excitement danced wildly in the pit of her stomach. As excitement goes, it wasn't much of a sliver, certainly not compared to Tyler's spending the night in her bed, but it was an energetic little creature. It deftly avoided murderous assaults by common sense, fear, and pessimism. It actually seemed to gather strength from these triumphs.
But her brain was not immune to the attacks. It wasn't long before she concluded her only sensible course of action was to return to Albuquerque and marry the best man she could find. Yet that impish little sliver refused to go away. And it had abandoned her stomach to flit through her heart, making it beat faster, into her brain, reviving hope she had beaten down.
Tyler believed she could do it. Maybe she could.
But Tyler was a dreamer. She knew from bitter experience some men built their dreams out of the tissue of impossibility. She was afraid Tyler was one of those men. If so, his faith in her was as meaningless as her father's certainty that someday, somehow, he would find gold.
"I'll think about it." She knew she would think of little else for days to come.
* * * * *
Tyler and Zac were cutting firewood. Zac sawed the logs into one-foot lengths and Tyler split them into pieces small enough to fit into the stove.
"Do you think she's a fortune hunter?" Zac asked.
The same question had teased Tyler all morning. He hoped Daisy was just like most women, wanting a little beauty and romance in her life. But he couldn't ignore the possibility she was concerned only with money, clothes, fancy trips, and a big house, not the man himself. This didn't match the image of her in his mind. Not at all.
"I wouldn't take everything she says literally."
"Why would she say it if she didn't mean it?"
"Maybe because she's afraid of being poor again."
He remembered their first years in Texas well enough to know what it meant to worry about your next meal. But his family hadn't given up. They hadn't compromised. They had stuck together and fought until they had won.
But there had been seven of them.
"Maybe because she's alone," Tyler said as he cleaved an oak log in two with a single swing of the ax. "If she decides to go back to her ranch, she'll need help."
"You could do that."
"I don't have time."
"You wouldn't have to stay with her, just look in on her now and then."
But he wouldn't. He didn't trust himself to spend time alone with Daisy. He didn't think he'd lose his head, but he couldn't be certain. He hadn't been acting like himself these past few days. No telling what he would do if they were together for weeks at a time.
He was petrified at the thought of being caught in marriage by a woman who wanted him for his money. He intended to live on what he could make. Which so far was nothing. It was okay for him to live in poverty because of principle and pride, but he couldn't ask a woman to do that. And if they started a family, he'd be forced to accept the inheritance he didn't want and didn't feel he deserved. Not to mention taking a job he hated.
He had already made up his mind if he hadn't found gold by his deadline, he would disappear. He could never live on his family's charity. On that there could be no compromise. He was already considering places to go. Australia figured high on his list.
But he didn't want to disappear. He might not get along well with his family, but he liked them. Tyler tossed aside several split pieces and settled a new log in place.
"She'd need somebody around the ranch all the time," he said, then split the log in half. "And unless we find out who's trying to kill her, it won't matter. She'll have to stay in Albuquerque." He methodically reduced the half log to four wedge-shaped pieces.
"If you're not willing to look after her, you'd better stop encouraging her to go off on her own."
"I'm not encouraging her," Tyler said, tossing the split pieces aside and positioning the second half of the log. "I just don't think she ought to marry somebody just to have a husband."
"Why not if that's what she wants?"
Why not indeed? What gave him the right to think he could order other people's lives? No one approved of what he'd done. They said he was a fool to refuse his inheritance. They'd probably say Daisy was wise to make a sensible marriage.
But he believed she was too capable to sell herself short. If she compromised, it would be out of fear. He wanted to tell her she didn't have to be afraid, but he couldn't, not if he didn't intend to be around to pick her up when she stumbled. He wasn't willing to give up his dream to help her gain hers. It sounded awful, even to him, but that's the way it was. His whole future depended on the next few months.
So did hers.
But she wasn't his responsibility. Besides, she didn't want his help. She disapproved of him so much she had tried to run away. She'd ridiculed his plan for the hotels. The best thing was to take her to Albuquerque as soon as possible. If he didn't know what she was doing, he wouldn't worry about her. He needed to keep his mind on his work if he wanted to find gold before his deadline. He really didn't want to go to Australia.
Tyler finished splitting the last log and started gathering an armload to take inside. "It probably won't matter what I say," he said to Zac. "I'm sure the Cochranes will be happy to give her any advice she needs." Knowing that should have been a relief to him instead of an irritation.
* * * * *
Daisy sat down so Tyler could change her bandage. So far he had refused to let her do it. She hadn't minded so much at first, but she felt better wit
h each passing day. And as she grew stronger, she became more irritated by his restrictions.
"I don't suppose you'll let me to change it myself today," she said. The question was purely rhetorical.
"You can't see as well as I can."
"I can't see you at all," she snapped. "Your beard covers your face so completely I wouldn't know you if I were to see you without it." She hadn't meant to mention his beard, but it was a constant source of irritation to her.
"You aren't likely to get the chance," Zac said. "He hasn't shaved in years. Or cut his hair, from the looks of it."
"I always think people with a beard have something to hide," Daisy said.
She felt Tyler's hand still for a fraction of a second before it resumed its work.
"Why do you say that?" he asked.
She was glad she didn't have to look into his eyes. He could be rather intimidating.
"A beard is like a mask. You can't see the face behind it. You can't tell if a man means what he says."
"You can see his eyes, hear the tone of his voice, observe his behavior."
"But the face is the only true means of expression," Daisy insisted. "He who covers his face, covers the window to his soul."
"Sounds like something you read in a book," Zac said with a shudder.
"Not everybody wants people looking inside them," Tyler said.
"I wouldn't like to have a beard," Zac said, "but it's nobody's business what I'm thinking."
"They wouldn't have to wonder long," Daisy said. "You'd tell them soon enough." Daisy was startled by her own words, but neither Zac nor Tyler seemed to take offense.
"Your wound is healing nicely," Tyler said. "I doubt you'll have much of a scar."
He covered it with salve and began bandaging it again.
"Now all I have to do is hide in a closet for three years until my hair grows out." She didn't mean to keep harping on the same complaint, but after suffering with freckles and being six feet tall, a scar and a singed head added stinging insult to grievous injury.
"What you need is a wig," Zac said. "You'd be amazed what they can do nowadays. I had a marvelous one for a play we did at school a couple of years ago. I wonder if I still have it? You're welcome to borrow it if I do."
"I'm sure Daisy's friends will be happy to have her safe and sound no matter the length of her hair," Tyler said.
"It's not my friends I'm worried about," Daisy said.
"It should be. No one else matters."
Daisy didn't replay. Only a man could be so right and so completely wrong at the same time. And never understand why.
* * * * *
Daisy was even more bored the next day. Rain had been falling since dawn. The sky was a dull grey, and the clouds showed no sign of breaking up. The steady drip from the roof was getting on her nerves, but Tyler said it was still impossible to start for Albuquerque.
"It'll freeze tonight and turn into a sheet of ice. That'll make it even more dangerous."
"I've never been cooped up so long. I need to do something. Let me fix dinner tonight."
Zac lifted his gaze from the cards.
"Thanks," Tyler said. "It's no trouble."
"I want to," Daisy said. "It's about the only thing I can do for you. I feel utterly useless."
"I'd get over that soon if I were you," Zac advised.
"Get over what?" Daisy asked.
"Needing to feel useful. People will take advantage of it. Before you know it, they'll be expecting you to do things for them all the time."
Daisy smiled. "I gather you've managed to control the impulse."
"Never had it."
Daisy looked back at Tyler. "I mean it," she said.
"I'd rather do it myself."
"I promise to put everything back in its place." She couldn't disguise the annoyance in her voice.
"Tyler doesn't like anybody cooking for him," Zac said.
"I'm a good cook," Daisy said.
"Tyler's better."
"I'll have to spend the rest of my life cooking, so why don't you teach me some of your tricks?" she asked.
"I'm not very patient," Tyler confessed. "Besides, I make up a lot of things as I go."
Daisy didn't have to be hit over the head to figure out Tyler was trying to tell her to leave him alone. "Okay, suppose I wash your clothes?"
One look at Zac's expression told her she'd stumbled into another forbidden area.
"I don't know how you can stand living in a place without curtains on the windows," she said, frustration making her petulant. "Do you mind if I make some?"
"What are you going to use?" Zac asked. "Your petticoat?"
"It would be better than bare walls," Daisy said.
She was frustrated, hurt, and thoroughly miffed. Tyler was the most self-contained man she had ever met. He could do everything better than she could. What he couldn't do, he didn't want done. He didn't need a woman. He didn't even want one. She was just in the way.
She didn't understand why she should care about Tyler when she didn't care what Zac felt. It must be because Tyler was the one who took care of her, who seemed to be genuinely concerned about her.
"You ought to buy some curtains next time you're in Albuquerque," she said. "It would make the place look nicer and give you some privacy."
"There's nobody to be private from," Tyler pointed out.
"You could use some pictures, too," she said, persevering. "This place looks like a cabin in the woods."
"It is a cabin in the woods."
"I know, but it shouldn't look like it."
She didn't know why she bothered. He clearly wasn't going to take her suggestions. Maybe he had lived by himself so long he didn't know how to include other people in his life, even let them know he wanted to include them. Feeling excluded annoyed her.
She guessed she liked him.
That didn't really surprise her. She had thought for some time he was rather nice even though he was domineering and uncommunicative to the point of rudeness. What did surprise her was discovering it was important he like her back.
Frustrated and confused, she started pulling books off the shelf and dusting them. The cabin was very neat, but this was one area Tyler had forgotten. She found herself imagining what she would do if she lived here, how she would rearrange the furniture, decorate the walls, the things she would buy if she had the money. It was really a remarkable cabin. Most homes in Albuquerque weren't built half so well.
The feel of a hand closing around her wrist caused her heart to leap into her throat. She looked up into Tyler's deep, brown eyes about the time he took the book from her hand.
"Don't sneak up behind me," she said. "You scared me nearly half to death."
Tyler replaced the book on the shelf and pulled her away from the bookshelves. "You don't have to work for your keep."
"I don't mind."
"I'd rather you didn't."
"All right," she snapped, throwing the dust cloth on the table. "I'm sorry I touched your books, your dust, or anything else that's yours. I promise I won't do it again." She started toward her corner.
"I didn't mean for you--"
"I know, you didn't mean to hurt my feelings, but you don't want anybody to do anything for you, to thank you, even to talk to you most of the time. I don't know why you bother to go on living. You're already dead inside."
She retreated to her corner and drew the curtains behind her.
"I see you haven't lost your charm," Zac remarked dryly.
"Go to hell!" Tyler said and slammed out the door.
Daisy couldn't decide whether her tears were from anger or disappointment. Her wrist still burned where Tyler had touched her. It seemed incredible that such a gentle touch should be a rejection. It made her furious.
It also hurt. She'd had a lot of rejection in her life. It never got easier, but this was harder than all the rest.
* * * * *
Tyler turned back toward the cabin. It was getting dark. The rain had stop
ped and the temperature had plummeted, but he was hardly aware of the cold. He couldn't stop thinking about what Daisy had said.
He had closed her out just as effectively as if he'd slammed a door in her face. He hadn't meant to. He hadn't even wanted to, but when she'd started to mess with his things, he'd experienced a moment of panic. He knew she was trying to help, but she was stirring up new feelings. He couldn't handle the ones he had.
He stepped across the stream that ran near his cabin. The snow melt gurgled noisily around the rocks, but a lacy network of ice trimmed the banks. If it got cold enough, the spray would freeze into a kind of ice foam.
He'd been self-contained for so long he didn't think about it. Until today. Until he realized he didn't want to close Daisy out. He had spent so many years keeping to himself, denying any emotion, he didn't know how to express feelings, to let anybody into his life. He certainly didn't know what to do once they were there. He didn't know how he wanted Daisy to fit, how long he wanted her to stay, how much he wanted her to mean. None of his feelings toward her were familiar or comfortable.
He did know he was not going to forget her easily, if at all.
He found himself wishing he could talk to George, but he knew nobody could figure this out for him. He would have to do it himself. But how should he begin?
Begin with what you want. If you know that, all the rest will follow.
He decided to check on the animals before he went inside. There was something peaceful about being around the mules, and right now he was experiencing more than his share of turmoil.
* * * * *
Next morning Tyler was taking boiling water to melt the ice in the water troughs when he caught sight of Willie Mozel stumbling along the ridge. The temperature had dropped below freezing overnight, turning everything to ice. Six inches of sleet and snow had fallen on top of that. The day was overcast, bitterly cold. Nothing would melt today.
Tyler intended to send the crusty old prospector on his way the minute he made it to the cabin, but by the time Willie staggered into the yard, Tyler knew something was wrong. Willie looked half dead.
"What happened to you?" Tyler asked.
"Damned thieving bastards!" Willie managed to say before he sagged against the shed.
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