Rankin sat at the end of the long table, with Calinda on the right side and Lynx on the left, facing each other. Calinda politely dined and listened while the two men did most of the talking. Never had she seen Rankin’s eyes glow with such warmth and pleasure, proclaiming his love and need for his son. Calinda was fascinated with the easy rapport and genial manner between the two men. Not a single cross word or surly expression had passed between them. They appeared overjoyed with this visit, delighting in every moment and word.
The conversation waxed between the ranch and Texas happenings. Calinda watched the variety of emotional reactions come and go on the beguiling face of a man who was no longer a stranger. Except in character, he was perfect, a fact which disturbed her. His features were strong and well-blended to promote a facade of strength, looks, and self-assurance. She could mentally envision the tall, steely-muscled body in smooth bronze beneath his snug black pants, baby blue shirt, and black leather vest. She shifted in her chair and tore her probing eyes from the magnetic Lynx. She found herself wanting to run her fingers through that enticing head of brandy-colored hair and to gaze longingly into those amber eyes. What had gotten into her? She was as nervous as a yearling around a hot branding iron.
A man keenly versed in making many observations simultaneously without appearing to have but one object of interest, Lynx was all too aware of the fetching girl before him and her furtive study of him as he attempted to focus his full attention on his father and their talk. Lynx was utterly intrigued by this stimulating turn of events. Later, he would make some inquiries in town, just to be certain there were two Callies indeed.
There was something about Callie and her abrupt arrival which troubled him. Since Lynx had never found any woman irresistible or unforgettable, he didn’t realize it was the powerful attraction between them which plagued him. He attributed his uneasiness to suspicions. There were several unacceptable answers to this stunning mystery: she could be a clever spy or a money-grubbing imposter; she could be a malicious and sly conspirator; or she could be real…
The perceptive Rankin witnessed the undercurrents passing between Lynx and Calinda, swift currents which both were trying to dam and control. His heart soared with satisfaction. By mutual attraction or wily coercion, he would come out the winner if those two got together. Lynx and Calinda were both intelligent and stubborn. To avoid suspicions and rebellion, Rankin decided to allow Mother Nature to take her course first, and she seemed mighty busy already.
To draw Calinda into the conversation, Rankin spoke of her harrowing experience on the way to Fort Worth and dilemma after her arrival. Amusement sparkled in Lynx’s eyes and he grinned raffishly. Calinda demurely lowered her lashes as if embarrassed about something, her cheeks glowing strangely. Rankin studied these reactions and wondered about them. It appeared those two shared a compelling secret. How was that possible since they had just met? Why was Calinda being so quiet and nervous? Why was Lynx so devilishly playful and attentive?
“I hope you learned a valuable lesson, Cal; don’t fight odds greater than you. Some men are very dangerous and impulsive,” Lynx beguilingly remarked. “You were lucky to come out unscathed. You’re fortunate to have lost nothing more than clothes and jewels.”
Calinda stared at him, then stated, “They had no right to steal my possessions or to threaten my life. In the same circumstances, I’ll react the same way. I doubt you would give in willingly, even with overpowering odds against you,” she added calmly, fuming inside, her words carrying dual meanings which he astutely understood. How dare he so boldly and rashly hint at their intimate misadventure! Did the unflappable rogue lack all manners, caution, and wits?
“But I’m a man; I carry a set of Colts which itch to speak for me. Perhaps I should teach you how to protect yourself while I’m home,” he audaciously suggested. “I’m good at self-defense, and a bello mariposa is a tempting treasure.” Yes, with her vivid beauty and delicate air, she presented the illusion of an exquisite butterfly.
“Rankin gave me a gun, and he taught me how to fire it. Next time, if there is a next time, the odds won’t be so one-sided.”
“I’ll give you a piece of advice, Cal; men like those are deadly. They’d kill even a woman if she caused them trouble, shoot her and never glance back or think twice about it.”
“Those are nearly the same words that bandit leader used to frighten me. I hope your knowledge and advice don’t come from excessive experience,” she remarked accusingly, wanting to ask for a translation of the softly spoken Spanish words. “You do have quite a reputation.”
“Where females are concerned, from observations only. I’ve had my share of gunfights with men who simply want to see if they can out-draw me. Since I’m sitting here tonight, that should tell you who was the fastest and smartest,” he said, without arrogance and with a subtle hint of dissatisfaction with his uncontrollable reputation.
“The hazard of being a famous gunslinger?” she probed.
Through clenched teeth, Lynx informed her, “I’ve never shot any man who didn’t demand it, one way or another.”
“What about your famed Texas Rangers? Why can’t they clean up this lawlessness and keep the peace here?”
“They’re trying their damnedest. Texas is a huge territory, too many warring factions, too many people looking out for themselves.”
“What warring factions?” she inquired, listening intently.
“The Comanche and Apache Indians, Mexican bandits, and a wide assortment of American criminals. We’re flooded with escaping convicts, rustlers, outlaws, gunmen, and such. Down South, Mexican bandits cross the border to rob and raid, then return to safety. The Rangers have pursued them many times, but the government doesn’t like them encroaching on Mexican soil.” Lynx couldn’t bring himself to tell about the Alamo, where too many Rangers had died in defeat.
“To make matters worse for the Rangers, even supposedly law-abiding men cause trouble. We’ve had range feuds, fence-cuttings, riots, lynchings, and bouts of revenge. The Rangers spend as much time on battling ranchers and farmers as they do fighting crime.”
“It sounds like an awful place to live. Why don’t the ranchers and town people help the Rangers keep peace?”
“Texas was practically lawless after the War ended in ’65. The soldiers who returned here or remained here afterwards were too used to the killing and violence. When anyone challenged them or harmed them, it was natural to fight back with bloodshed and strength. The South was bound together during the War. After it, everyone was out for himself. When the railroads pushed into Texas to haul cattle and sheep, train-robbers followed their progress to get rich. The biggest conflicts came with fencing. Grasslands and waterholes were claimed and protected by cattlemen. The farmers and squatters didn’t care for barriers against them; neither did the sheep-herders. Many a killing and feud’s been over those barbed strips.”
Calinda and Rankin were most impressed by Lynx’s span of knowledge. Calinda found herself mesmerized by his mellow drawl. The tone of Lynx’s voice thrilled Rankin, for it told him there was much he didn’t know about his grown son. Rankin found the emotions exposed there pleasing and enlightening. He smiled at Lynx, who didn’t notice it as he and Calinda gazed enraptured at each other across the table. For a time, Rankin felt they didn’t even acknowledge his presence.
“Lynx, why don’t you take Cal for a stroll,” Rankin suggested to give them time to be alone. “I promised to ride over to Rafe’s to discuss his water problems,” he added to remove himself graciously.
Lynx stood up, his agile frame drawing Calinda’s eyes to it. Salina entered the room, heading for Lynx, smiling provocatively. As if she hadn’t heard Rankin’s words, Salina asked coyly, “When I finish my chores, can we take a walk, Lynx?”
Lynx tugged a dark curl and chuckled, his eyes glowing with a response which piqued Calinda, as he had intended it to do. “Mañana, Salina. I’m taking Cal for a stroll. Been good since I left?” he teased lazily.
“Claro esta, mi famoso vaquero,” Salina promptly replied, eyes sending messages which even a dull-visioned man could read.
“You get your chores done, and I’ll see you later,” Lynx advised, as if planning some romantic rendezvous.
Calinda masked her warring emotions, hands clenched tightly on the edge of the table, as she arose. She must avoid this cunning devil. “I’m very tired, Mister Cardone. Perhaps Salina would accept the stroll in my place. I’ll go to my room, then you can visit privately.”
Neither man missed her inflection on the last two words. Rankin was relieved when he didn’t have to insist their guest come first, since Lynx quickly took her unintentional bait. “It appears we’re becoming sister and brother, Cal. We should get acquainted before I ride off again. No telling when I’ll be home again.”
Not wishing to cause more resentment in the Mexican girl, Calinda tried once more to dissuade him, inwardly afraid of being alone with him. “I’m sure there will be plenty of time tomorrow for us to talk, Mister Cardone. Salina has been looking forward to your homecoming. You don’t want to disappoint her. Goodnight.”
As Calinda turned to make a floating exit, Lynx was at her side, gripping her elbow. She was shocked when he teased, “Afraid to stroll in the dark with your new brother? I’m perfectly harmless; ask my father. Cardones are famous for their hospitality and manners.”
Calinda reluctantly accepted the enforced invitation. “I’m well acquainted with the Cardone traits. If you insist,” she casually yielded.
“I insist, Callie; and the name is Lynx.”
After they left the room, Rankin turned to the furious Salina and stated coldly, “Need I remind you, Salina, you are my servant? Cal is a guest, and I will not tolerate such rude and brassy behavior. I should also remind you, Lynx is a Cardone. Don’t interfere in his life. I will not speak further on these issues,” he tersely warned.
Salina acknowledged his warnings, but dismissed them. Besides, the night was young and Lynx was within her reach once more. This time, he would discover she had become very much a woman. This time, she wouldn’t accept another rejection from him.
Calinda and Lynx silently walked toward the corral, to halt there and to watch the moonlight dance off the shiny hides of the sleek horses. An Appaloosa stallion came trotting over for Lynx to nuzzle him affectionately. She witnessed the strong attachment between the mottled steed and his bronzed master. As Lynx fluffed Star’s mane, Cal noted the stirring gentleness in his mood and expression. This man was capable of feeling and displaying a wide range of complex emotions.
“He’s very beautiful,” Calinda said softly.
“Out here, a man needs a tough and smart horse. If his mount isn’t quick and alert, he can find himself in great danger. Go, Star, visit with your friends,” he told the animal, who seemed to understand his words and returned to a small group on the far side of the corral.
As Rankin rode off, they both smiled and waved. After a few moments, Lynx asked, “You want to stroll or sit over there and talk?” pointing to a swing beneath an arched trellis which was covered with fragrant yellow roses, a highly romantic setting in the moonlight.
“Neither,” she replied, tense and alert. “We have nothing to discuss. I only agreed to a walk to avoid a scene. Just stay clear of me.”
When he took her hand to lead her to the swing, she yanked it away and glared at him. He laughed and taunted, “I don’t bite, Cal.”
“I think you do,” she too quickly snapped, then flushed.
“Por Dios, you are afraid of me,” he teased as if surprised.
Calinda ignored his taunt to sit down on the stone enclosure, instead of the swing which would allow him to be too close for comfort or attention. She might as well settle this trying matter. The uneven, adobe wall encircled the house, except for gates at intervals. Although it wouldn’t deny entrance to wild animals, it offered a striking appearance and allowed privacy from the other structures. Without thinking about the stones snagging the red satin gown, Calinda defensively sat on a two-foot-high ledge, nestled safely between the four-foot-high posts.
Lynx pretended not to notice her action, one which exposed her anxiety. He negligently leaned against the pier to her right. “Tell me about yourself, Cal,” he encouraged, gazing ahead.
“What?” she asked, as if her attention had strayed.
“I’m at a disadvantage. If I know Rankin, you’re well-informed about me; but I know little about you.”
“Well-informed? I only know you’re a nasty villain. Dare I ask, are the rumors true? Is your reputation justified or exaggerated?”
Lynx turned to rest his left shoulder on the post and looked into her upturned face. “I’d be lying if I said no. Westerners demand legends and love creating them. I just happen to be their target right now. Like I said, I’ve never killed an innocent man.”
“Innocent in your eyes or the law’s? How can you calmly take another man’s life? Those bandits who attacked my stage murdered the guard. It didn’t seem to bother any of them.”
“If I didn’t keep a cool head, I wouldn’t be able to hesitate until the last minute before firing. If a man has a gun pointed at you and won’t listen to reason, it’s you or him. Frankly I don’t care to have the thirsty ground drinking my blood.”
“But what about the law? Can’t they arrest such men?” she continued the grim talk, but wanted to ask much different questions.
“The law is rarely in the same place at the same time. Somehow it’s impossible to stall a determined man until a Ranger or marshal can appear. This isn’t England or the East, Cal; don’t ever forget it.”
“If you refused a challenge, would he kill you anyway?”
“Most would. To turn tail and run brands a man a coward. Cowards have a tough time out here. Men keep pushing them until they either leave or they fight. Since I live here, I’m forced to fight.”
“Does killing become easier, as natural as a reflex?” she pressed.
“Not to me. I’ve set out to intentionally take only one man’s life.” He flattened his back against the cool stones, bending his knee and placing the bottom of his boot on the post near his other knee. He remained impassive as he chewed on a blade of sweetgrass.
“Who? Why?” she asked when he didn’t expound.
“Perhaps I’ll tell you one day, if you hang around.” He glanced at her, a half-grin curling up one side of his inviting mouth.
“Did you kill him?” she persisted, having a need to know.
“Nope.” He inhaled deeply, then slowly released it, as if mentally soothing a raw nerve which she was exposing.
“You changed your mind?” she continued softly.
“Never found him. Finally stopped wasting my time and energy,” he murmured in a tone which mutely implored her to cease this topic.
She didn’t. “If you located him today, would you kill him?”
There was a long and somber silence before Lynx said, “I honestly don’t know. I’d have to see him again to learn if his crimes still matter to me. Isn’t this a gloomy subject?” he hinted clearly.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured to placate him.
He turned and gazed down at her. “Why?” he almost demanded.
Calinda’s eyes were soft and her lips compelling as she replied, “Because he must have done something terrible to you to earn such hatred. Is he the reason you’ve stayed away from home so long, why you’ve grown so hard and cynical?”
“Am I cold and ruthless, Cal?” he asked unflinchingly.
To elude the snare which she had unwittingly set, she continued, “I don’t know what you are, Lynx. I’ve never met anyone like you before. Sometimes I see the same pain and loneliness in your eyes and in Rankin’s. You’re both very good at covering your feelings. Why don’t you come home, Lynx? Rankin misses you and needs you here.”
“What about you, Cal? Do you miss me and want me around?”
Calinda blushed and looked away. “Why
should I? We’re strangers. Besides, I won’t be living here much longer,” she added for some absurd reason. Thoroughly unsettled, she couldn’t think clearly.
Lynx grasped her chin and lifted her head. “Why not?”
“I can’t go on accepting your father’s charity indefinitely; it isn’t right. He’s been wonderful to me, and I’m very fond of him.”
“Where will you go? How will you live?” he asked curtly.
“I don’t know.” For a moment, she looked very young and vulnerable and afraid, “Do you mind if I stay here until I decide?”
“Why should I?” he inquired, drilling his gaze into hers.
“It is your home, and we…” She hastily fell silent.
“We, what, Cal?” he probed, searching her rosy face.
“Nothing,” she verbally denied him an answer which her expression boldly supplied. She had rashly stepped into her own trap!
Lynx captured her face between his hands and lowered his head. His intention clear, she whispered fearfully, “Don’t, Lynx.”
Trapped between him and the confining posts, Calinda couldn’t halt his action. His lips came down on hers in a tantalizing kiss. When she tried to turn her head, he held it securely, his lips parting hers and forging their mouths together. His strength superior and his desire great, he pulled her to her feet and imprisoned her in his embrace.
As his mouth seared over hers, Calinda struggled to retain her wits and control. She quivered as a dangerous wildfire licked at her body, wanting to burn away her resistance. As his lips moved from hers, she hoarsely demanded, “Stop it, Lynx.”
First Love Wild Love Page 9