First Love Wild Love

by Janelle Taylor

  Lynx unfolded the paper, recognizing it immediately. A tremor washed over him. “Where did you get this? You searched my things?”

  “When you were packing that morning, you dropped some papers; remember? Evidently this one went under the bed; I found it Monday when I was sweeping. What logical excuse do I receive this time for deceiving me? I suppose you’re going to deny you went to Dallas?”

  “No. I went to meet Major Jones, at his request, as you know from reading my mail. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d think I was breaking my word. I didn’t look for your father, Cal; I swear it.”

  “Being dishonest is easier than explaining? Am I so dense or untrustworthy that you must constantly deceive me?” she sneered icily.

  “Before you ask, woman, the ‘B’ stands for Burrow, a man Jones wanted me to locate for him. I had my reasons for keeping quiet.”

  “You always do, Lynx, about many things,” she stated coldly.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he inquired, eyeing her warily.

  “Nothing, Lynx, it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll follow that old adage, ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies…”

  “Why did you go to town twice this week?” he asked unexpectedly to catch her off guard. He had a bad feeling about her trips.

  She paled, then stammered, “To…get a new dress for your homecoming. I selected the material and hired a seamstress Tuesday, then picked up the dress Thursday. Looks as if I’ll wear it later.”

  “Why the rush job for a husband who has you infuriated?”

  “You were expected home Friday, remember? As you know, I’m impulsive; I decided at the last minute to wear something special.”

  “But you found the telegram Monday, Llama de mi. corazon. You had me painted black by Tuesday,” he debated her half-lies.

  Briefly Calinda went rigid as she stared at him. “All the more need to look ravishing when I’m trying to bewitch my own husband into sharing his life with me, to explain why he can’t be content and honest with me,” she sought to mislead him. “And please don’t call me that.”

  “I told you I’d clear up any problems between us when I got home. Couldn’t you wait to hear me out before judging me guilty?”

  “That was my exact intention, but a nasty bullet got in my way. Tell me, Lynx, does someone want me dead or just off this ranch? Even a fool can decipher this many hazardous clues. I want to know who’s declared himself my enemy and why,” she stated bluntly.

  “It isn’t me, love; but I aim to discover who it is. Nothing suspicious happened while I was gone?” he probed.

  “Can you interrogate me later? I’m hungry and hurting,” she avoided the subject with truthful excuses. “Didn’t you return too quickly?” she questioned, realizing this contradiction in his plans.

  “You sound disappointed I rushed to finish and hurry back. I’ll get you some breakfast and medicine, if you promise to stay put until you’re well.” He refused to move until she gave her word.

  “Yes, boss,” she replied, smiling tightly.

  When Lynx attempted to kiss her, she turned her head and pleaded, “Not now, Lynx. I feel terrible.”

  “Llama de mi corazon isn’t an insult, Callie,” he told her, wondering at her glacial reaction to the endearment. “It means…”

  “I know what it means; I asked Salina to translate,” she injected.

  “What did she say?” he questioned, assuming the worst.

  “Flame of my heart. I simply dislike words I can’t understand.”

  That morning birthed three days of fencing and probing on both sides. Calinda wasn’t allowed out of bed. She depended on the medicine to keep her out of his verbal reach during those first few days after the shooting. She ate, slept, and rested. When Lynx would enter the room, Cal would often pretend to be asleep, unaware that she didn’t have him fooled at all. When he tried to entertain her, she would politely ask him not to be so amusing, that laughter aggravated her wounds. When he tried to help her with meals, she would tell him that was her only means of diversion and feed herself. She refused to allow Salina to visit her, and Lynx agreed with that decision. Rankin would come by for a few moments, but she would feign fatigue to keep his trips to her room brief.

  Lynx slept in the other room, but checked on her frequently. He realized she was very guarded and remote, but couldn’t decide why. Cal remained pensive and moody, quick to deny his assistance and company. Lynx fretted over her lack of warmth and her resistance to him. She watched him strangely when he was in the room. She permitted his kisses, but hers lacked honesty. After that first morning, she hadn’t questioned him again; it almost seemed she didn’t want to converse with him on any topic.

  When the doctor came around, they would chat genially and she would exchange smiles with the elderly man. He told her the stitches could be removed in a week. Both were delighted that no infection set in on either injury. He jovially commented on Lynx’s excellent care of her while Calinda stared at her lap. The doctor said he wouldn’t need to drop by for several days unless there was a problem. He showed Lynx how to change her dressings, then said she could begin sitting up for short periods each day. “A while in the morning and afternoon. Nothing strenuous, my girl. Lots of rest and good food. No lifting anything,” he issued his orders cheerfully.

  “I’ll make sure she obeys, doc,” Lynx said firmly.

  “Just be patient, Calinda, don’t rush this,” he added.

  She smiled and nodded. “I’ll be up and around before long.”

  “Not before I give the word, girl,” he reminded her.

  Four more days passed. Lynx would prop her up on pillows each morning and afternoon so she could read. When she tried to lengthen her schedule, Lynx refused to allow it. He would bring his meals to the room to eat with her, finding it difficult to draw her out. When he insisted, Cal would play a game of cards with him. He continued to sleep in the other room, becoming restless and moody himself. To relax her, he persisted in sponging her off each night before bedtime, to her arguments and rebellion. When she demanded a real bath, he denied it until the doctor said she could exert that much energy.

  Being close to her and unable to touch her was sheer torment. At least she could grant him some affectionate kisses and bright smiles! At least she could talk to him, tell him what was troubling her! This chilling silence was gnawing at him, reeking pain and injury. Why couldn’t he reach her, soften her? It was frustrating.

  By the tenth day, a storm was brewing in Lynx. He had been working hard to drive himself into exhausted slumber, recalling her past confession of a similar desperation. He had reached his limit of patience and understanding. It was time to clear the tainted air between them. Cal had punished and tormented him enough! It was time for her self-pity and reserve to end. He left the range early to confront her.

  When Lynx arrived home, she was in no condition to settle anything with him. The doctor had been there to remove the stitches, and she was nervous and uncomfortable. She constantly wiggled her foot to get rid of some of her anxiety. Her cheeks were flushed a bright red, and she was pale around her mouth. He strolled over to the bed and sat down. Her gaze darted around the room like a busy insect.

  “I saw Doc leaving. How does it feel?” he asked solicitously.

  “Like hell, Cardone,” she unnaturally snapped at him.

  “Need something for the pain?” he tried to help her again.

  “Doc says I can’t have anymore of his magic fluid. Sometimes he’s as mean as you are. I want some sherry,” Cal declared.

  “Did Doc say you could have any?” he inquired, trying to keep his composure. She was as squirmy as a captive on an Apache antbed.

  Cal glared at him. “I didn’t ask. But if I don’t get some relief, I’m going to scream my head off. It’s easy for you and Doc to give orders; you two aren’t injured or upset,” she panted breathlessly.

  When Lynx continued to observe her, she added, “Please.”

&nbs
p; “Let me see your chest and back,” he said unflinchingly.

  “After the sherry,” she informed him crisply.

  “Before the sherry,” he called her bluff, their gazes meeting and silently battling. “I’m serious, Calinda Cardone.”

  Lynx comprehended her distress when she readily agreed when he knew she wanted to scream a refusal at him. “Doc just put on new dressings,” she tried to prevent his touch and nearness.

  “I’ll re-do them,” he dismissed her excuse, grinning. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed, love; I’m well-acquainted with what’s beneath that gown,” he hinted provocatively.

  “It’s ugly and sickening,” she taunted him.

  “Is that why you’re shutting me out of your life, afraid a tiny scar will repulse me? Isn’t that coldshoulder getting heavy by now?” he probed.

  “If you’ve come here to start another quarrel, Lynx, I’m not in the mood. What’s unbearably heavy is this bed and room. I want some fresh air, sunshine, and exercise before I go mad. How would you be feeling if you’d been laid up for over a week with no end in sight?”

  “Ornery as a trapped badger,” he roguishly replied, then chuckled. “I know it’s hard to laze around in pain and boredom. One sherry coming up,” he stated, bowing at the waist before leaving.

  When Lynx returned and Cal reached for the glass, he held it away from her and reminded, “My inspection first, Callie.”

  She spread her arms on the bed and invited, “Proceed, tyrant.”

  He carefully lifted the front patch and studied the fiery area with its sealed white line. The surrounding flesh exposed yellowish purple bruising. He gingerly replaced the bandage, then checked .the back injury where a fairly healed hole greeted his vision. When he was satisfied, he handed her the glass. “Looks marvelous to me.”

  She smiled indulgently and sipped the golden liquid. Lynx remained silent, his body rigid. A haunted expression filled his tawny eyes. Mentally he seemed to be far away from her, so sad, so miserable. “Lynx, why are you staring at me like that?” she asked.

  He straightened and shrugged. “I was just thinking how close I came to losing you. Now that I have you, Callie, I can’t imagine my life without you. For the first time, I realize what my father went through years ago when Mother…I don’t know which is worse, the agony or the fear of facing life alone. I’ll see you later,” he murmured hoarsely, then turned to leave, berating his show of vulnerability.

  “Lynx,” she called to him, drawn to that sensitive facet.

  Expecting an apology for her treatment of him lately, he slowly turned and waited. “Tell me about your mother,” she entreated instead.

  “I can’t, Callie,” he said, shaking his head.

  “It’s been nearly six years according to the date on her tombstone. How long will you suffer like this?” she asked quietly.

  “I wish I knew. Sometimes it seems like yesterday. Sometimes, as if she never existed. If only I knew…Why were you at her grave?” he asked, twisting the conversation around to her.

  Cal was prepared for a reply. “I saw her portrait in the attic. She’s very beautiful. I was wondering what she was like; you two favor so much.”

  “That’s why it was so hard on Rankin back then. Every time he looked at me, he saw glimmers of her. It was tearing him apart. I thought if I left for a while, those painful memories would end. I discovered something terrible; you can’t leave problems behind when they’re inside your head.”

  “You can’t grieve forever, Lynx. Why can’t you let her go? You expect me to do that with my father,” she reminded him softly.

  “There’s a big difference between us, Callie. I had my mother until I was seventeen; you were a small child, too young to recall Brax. If it was as simple as speaking words, I could,” he murmured softly.

  “Words aren’t simple, Lynx, not from you.”

  “When you’re better, we’ll talk, love, not tonight.” He smiled at her, then headed for the door again.

  Before she realized what words were forming in her mouth they had spilled forth to halt and stun him. “She isn’t dead, is she?”

  Lynx whirled and faced her, then stalked forward to the bed. “What did you say?” he demanded fiercely, all tenderness gone.

  Bright and quick, she cunningly deceived him, “In your heart, she isn’t dead yet. She’s like a ghost haunting you.”

  “You’re wrong, Callie; as far as I’m concerned, she’s dead.”

  Calinda’s heart screamed, why can’t you confide in me? Not that it mattered, but he hadn’t lied to her, just misled her, again. “So we’re just supposed to forget our parents?” she inquired sadly.

  “We have no choice, Callie; they’re gone forever. Do you want me to join you for dinner tonight?” he asked for the first time since her perilous battle with death.

  “Need you ask?” Cal parried as if honestly surprised.

  For a brief moment he looked like a vulnerable boy as he said, “Something tells me I do. I won’t ask why; you’ll tell me when you’re ready to discuss it. Until then, know this, woman; I need you.”

  Tears glistened in her eyes. “I need you, too. But we have some problems to work out before things can be right between us.”

  “Yes, I know. But this isn’t the time. See you later,” he told her, then left. As he walked down the steps, Lynx was curiously exhausted. Not once since his return had she said, I love you…

  He headed for the stable. It was past time to speak with Charlie and to investigate her depressing trips into town. Maybe some vital clues or an answer could be located…

  When dinner came and went without her husband’s appearance, Calinda wondered why Rankin had brought her meal and why Lynx had ridden into town and stayed so late. While she ate, she deliberated this situation. Had she carelessly tipped her hand? She admitted she had been acting suspicious. Just in case that cunning rogue discovered something, she must prepare her defense. Mastering her weakness and pain, Cal retrieved Brax’s will and letter and placed them where Lynx could find them, if he made a search. It was too soon to let him see the note and deed, for they revealed things which Lynx should confess willingly, mainly the ranch ownership. After conning another sherry from Rankin later that evening, she was entrapped by slumber when Lynx arrived near midnight.

  Lynx walked into the room and stood beside the bed, staring down at his wife. Why would Cal meet with a lawyer from Austin? Why keep it a secret? Why send that phony telegram about him to the sheriff in Dallas? What papers had the man brought to her?

  Lynx possessed a calculating and crafty mind. He was well-versed on intense investigation. These clues tumbled over in his keen mind like a colorful kaleidoscope until a devastating picture formed before his mind’s eye. She had learned things he wished she hadn’t, but what was the extent of her knowledge?

  Tomorrow he would unravel this entwined mystery. He cautioned himself as he gingerly searched the room, fearing to awaken her. When he located two papers hidden beneath her underwear, he seized them to read in the other room, immediately recognizing the handwriting on those pages, alarmingly noting the dates. Lynx dreaded confronting her, knowing he couldn’t avoid it. This discovery explained her interest in the portrait and Laura’s grave. It explained her distance and mistrust. If she knew everything, it was frightfully clear why her imagination was running wild about the shooting…

  In the other room, Lynx unfolded a paper which turned out to be a will. He quickly scanned it, finding no mention of the ranch. He was shocked and confused to learn he was Brax’s heir if anything happened to Calinda. He tossed the will aside to devour the contents of the lengthy letter. Lynx couldn’t believe his eyes; Brax had confessed to the affair with his mother. Calinda knew Brax was guilty of theft and adultery! Did she understand why he and his father had kept silent about that painful betrayal? That knowledge explained why she had given up her search. But the reason for the hasty departure of Laura and Brax staggered him; somewhere he had a half-brother or hal
fsister…But so did his suffering wife! No wonder she was so confused, frightened, and saddened!

  Chapter Twenty-three

  In spite of his late and restless night, Lynx was up early the next morning. He wanted his chores done by mid-afternoon so he could have plenty of privacy and time with Calinda. With Brax’s will and plaguing letter, his wife had just enough misleading evidence against him to damage their relationship, but hopefully not enough to destroy it. Lynx tried to force the words in Brax’s letter from his mind, but he couldn’t. At last, he had some answers, but not the ones expected or imagined. Oddly, he felt unshackled from the past; yet, he was still fettered by unbroken links in that fateful chain.

  Lynx planned his strategy all morning. He would discuss Brax and Laura with Cal, fill in the gaps about what happened long ago. He would beg her forgiveness for keeping that affair and betrayal a secret. When Cal was well enough to be left alone a few days, he would place her under Steve’s guard, then head for Austin to question this Kyle Yancey. Before Lynx revealed the truth about his connection with the Rangers and her ranch partnership, he must know everything she and Yancey had discussed. When he returned to her side, there would be no more secrets between them. Somehow he would make her understand his deceptions and accept his love. He had been a fool to keep such facts from her this long! If she accidentally discovered the truth about the ranch, there was no telling how she would interpret it. Telling his love everything wasn’t as risky as keeping silent. Whatever it took, Lynx must force her to understand.

  When he arrived home, he carefully prepared himself with a bath and fresh shave. He pulled on snug jeans and a baby blue shirt, hoping to cast a boyishly innocent facade. He left his tawny hair fluffy and his shirt opened beneath his heart level. He left off his spurs and gunbelt. Lynx was aware of how he affected her, he must use that to sway her.

  When he swaggered into their room, he halted and gaped at her. Cal was sitting on the floor beside a tub, her naked body glistening with beads of water, her freshly washed hair dripping into the tub over which her chin was resting on her folded arms. Her daring offense was blatantly evident, as was its exhausting effect on her. Lynx hurried over to Cal and lifted her limp body, heading for the bed. “What the hell are you doing, woman?” he thundered angrily. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy. Doc said no lifting or exerting.”