Rough Wrangler, Tender Kisses

by Jill Gregory

  She wouldn’t ever settle for less and she wouldn’t let Wade settle either.

  “I have to stay at Cloud Ranch for a while,” she said slowly, trying to sound matter-of-fact as Becky peered anxiously up at her. “Because of my father’s will. But I’m not sure that it’s the right place for us, Becky. I want to make sure we settle down where we’ll both be happy—I promised you that, remember?”

  “Why can’t we be happy here?”

  Dawg sprang up then and licked her face and the girl gave a squeal of laughter. “See, even Dawg wants us to stay!”

  Caitlin went to the door with the armload of linens. “Let’s see about that pie.”

  Later, as she washed up their plates, and watched through the window as Becky traipsed around the ranch with Dawg, she tried to sort out the myriad feelings enveloping her. It was increasingly difficult to always appear calm and cheerful for Becky when inside, turmoil churned through her. Wade had been gone when she’d awakened in his bed this morning, and she’d felt a shocking sense of loneliness without his arms around her.

  She hadn’t seen a glimpse of him since. And she had no idea how it would feel to face him this morning, considering everything that had happened between them last night. The very thought of it made her stomach clench.

  If Wade had thought their first kiss a mistake, what must he think about last night?

  Last night.

  It was the biggest mistake I ever made, she thought in dismay, and yet, she wouldn’t take back a moment of it if she had the chance. Those hours spent in Wade’s arms, making love in his bed, had been the most joyful hours she’d ever known. But perhaps the most foolish as well.

  How was it that he had the power to pierce through all of her defenses, all of her facades, and expose her heart’s most fragile vulnerabilities? She’d thought she had grown strong, but her love for Wade left her weak.

  A sound at the door made her jump and drop the sudsy plate she was holding. It shattered on the floor.

  “Senorita, it is only me.” Francesca’s tone held a note of impatience. Shaking her head, she marched across the kitchen and picked up the broom.

  “I’ll do it, Francesca.”

  “No. You’ve done enough.”

  Caitlin knelt and began gathering up the larger shards of crockery. “I’m sorry about the plate, but you startled me—”

  “This isn’t about the plate, senorita. A plate is a plate— it can be replaced.”

  The housekeeper’s color was heightened, her eyes flashed, and there was an edge to her voice. Caitlin slowly rose, setting the shards down upon the counter. “If you have something to say to me, Francesca, please go ahead,” she said quietly.

  For a moment, clutching the broom, Francesca merely stared at her. Then she shook her head. “Nada, senorita. There is nothing to say.”

  “I think there is.” Taking a deep breath, Caitlin continued in an even tone. “From the moment I arrived, you’ve disliked me. You said something that first night about how long it took for me to get here.”

  The housekeeper met her gaze squarely. “Sí.”

  “Perhaps you never really wanted me to come here at all—you certainly don’t seem pleased about it. I’m grateful that you’ve been so gracious to Becky, making her feel at home, but you’ve never made me feel at home here, Francesca.”

  The woman’s lips clamped together. “This is Senor Wade’s home, Senor Nick’s, and Senor Clint’s. They lived here, grew up here. You have no right—”

  “My father wanted me here. That’s why he left me a share of the ranch.”

  “He was a generous man. A good man. Maybe too good.”

  “He was more generous than I deserve, is that what you mean?” Suddenly Caitlin thought of all the letters that Reese had supposedly written to her—and of the ones she’d written to him, those he’d never received.

  She gazed at the housekeeper, who had full run of this house and everything in it. Francesca, who was trusted and counted on, who was treated almost as one of the family by everyone at Cloud Ranch.

  “Francesca, did you keep my letters?” The words burst from her suddenly. “The ones my father wrote to me? The ones I never received?”

  “What?” The woman’s eyes opened wide in surprise, then they grew dark with anger and an angry flush seeped across her olive skin. “I know nothing of any letters.”

  “Are you sure?” Caitlin stepped forward. “What about the letters I wrote to my father? Did you . . .” She took a deep breath and forced herself to voice the suspicions in her mind. “Did you intercept them? Someone must have. Perhaps you picked them up at the post office, and never gave them to him? Or did you take them from whoever brought them back from Hope and keep them to yourself so my father never knew that his daughter had written to him?”

  “Dios, no! Why would I do such a thing?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know, Francesca—because someone did. Wade told me that my father wrote to me numerous times. I never received a single letter—not until he was dying. And I wrote to him, as well—my mother gave me the address—”

  “Su madre.” The woman snorted. “Maybe she gave you the wrong address—maybe she didn’t want you to know Senor Reese. Didn’t she leave and never come back? The poor senor, I never knew him before, I didn’t come here until shortly before the ninos came. But others have told me, su madre . . . she might as well have shot the senor in the heart. So maybe it wasn’t enough for her that she didn’t ever come back—she didn’t want you to come back either—”

  “Francesca, don’t you dare speak about my mother that way.” Caitlin drew herself up straight. “She never would have lied to me—or stolen my letters. She wanted a different life than the one Reese insisted on having here. But she wasn’t evil and she didn’t try to keep me from my father. You hated her, didn’t you?” she added wonderingly. “Perhaps that’s why you also hate me?”

  Francesca reached for one of the shards from the plate Caitlin had dropped. Her hand clenched around it.

  “After she left and took you with her, your father was like this—broken. When the little boys came to him and needed a home, it was as if he was somehow glued back together, pieces stuck in place, but still . . . never whole. Never just the way he was. Sí, he still had his dreams for Cloud Ranch—such dreams—they are what kept him alive, and also the little boys, who needed him—but you . . . you and your mother. So many nights, for year after year, I would go into that place where he did his work and see him holding that photograph, staring at it— as if he could make you real, his hija—as if he could make you return, love him . . .”

  Her voice broke. She set the shard down and stared hard at Caitlin.

  “Never would I do anything to keep you from him, senorita. If you would have written to him, or come to visit him during any of those years, I would have danced for joy. I would have kissed the ground in thankfulness. But you didn’t come. Even when the senor lay dying in his bed, even then you did not come. He never saw you again. His heart . . .” Her dark eyes suddenly sparkled with tears. She shook her head.

  It wasn’t Francesca, Caitlin thought bleakly. It’s plain that she’s telling the truth. Then who?

  Before she had time to ponder any alternatives, a firm rapping sounded at the front door.

  Both women started. Caitlin hurried from the kitchen and down the hall to find Drew Raleigh smiling at her from the porch.

  “Good day, Caitlin.”

  “Drew! I . . . didn’t even hear you ride up.” She glanced past him at the handsome gray gelding tethered to the corral post. Her head was still whirling with all that Francesca had said, but she forced herself to smile with as much cordiality as she could muster.

  “Forgive me. Won’t you come in?”

  “Don’t mind if I do, but don’t worry, I won’t stay long.” He stepped into the cool spacious hall and followed her into the parlor. But when she offered refreshments, he shook his head.

  “No, I only came to ask you
a question, and of course, to see how your sister is faring—I heard in town that she was safely found.”

  “Yes, luckily Becky is fine, thank you.” Her words were punctuated by a laughing shriek from outside and the sounds of Dawg barking. “She seems quite taken with life on a cattle ranch.”

  Caitlin slipped into a flowered chair and gestured for him to be seated on the sofa. But Drew didn’t take a seat, instead he walked to the window and stared out, perhaps at Becky and Dawg, racing around the corrals, or perhaps at the wide rolling land surrounding Cloud Ranch itself. “Yes, she seems to have adjusted quite well, I can see that. And so, I think, have you.”

  He turned and studied her, sunlight gilding his sandy hair, his broad shoulders nearly blocking the entire view beyond the window. “You seem comfortable here. I mean, here in this house, and in town. I’ve watched you with people. You seem to fit wherever you go, Caitlin, whether you’re chatting with that busybody Edna Weaver, or buying beans and flour in Hicks Mercantile. Or making small talk with that little mouse, Miss Dale.”

  Admiration shone in his eyes. “My grandmother used to say that a true lady can speak as comfortably with a stable boy as with a king.” He laughed. “Or something to that effect. At any rate, you, my dear Caitlin, are very much a true lady.”

  “Such flattery,” Caitlin answered lightly. “I’m sure I don’t know what to say.” She wondered where all this was leading. The next moment, she found out.

  “It’s not flattery, Caitlin, it’s a well-deserved compliment—and the truth. And because I admire you so much, because I think you’re every bit as lovely in this rough setting as in a flower-bedecked ballroom, I’d like to humbly ask your permission to escort you to the May Day dance at the Crooked T.”

  She sat perfectly still, trying to keep her mouth from dropping open. “How . . . kind,” she managed to stammer after only an infinitesimal pause. “But . . . I . . .”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve already agreed to go with someone else,” Drew said quickly.

  “Well, no, but . . .”

  “Excellent. Then it’s settled.” He beamed at her. “I’m vastly relieved to hear that no one else has—uh—beat me to the draw, as they say in these parts.”

  “Sounds like you’re looking for a gunfight, Raleigh.”

  Wade’s voice brought Caitlin surging off the chair. Raleigh spun around. “Didn’t know you were here, Barclay.” His elegant brows rose. “Don’t you have roping or something to do?”

  Wade strode into the room, took off his hat, and tossed it on the table before the sofa. Sweat glistened on his face and there was mud on his boots. He looked every bit as dusty, sweaty, and hardworking in his plaid shirt, Levi’s, spurs, and neckerchief as Drew Raleigh looked elegant in his dark suit and embroidered silk vest. “Can’t say that I remember inviting you to my house. Reckon it must’ve slipped my mind.”

  “I came to see Caitlin.”

  “You don’t say?” Wade glanced over at her. “You invite him?”

  “No, but really, Wade, visitors are always welcome at Cloud Ranch.” Oh, Wade, why didn’t you get here a few minutes sooner and save me from having to go to that stupid dance with him? she thought silently, but aloud she said with a forced laugh, “He’s merely joking, Drew. Please don’t misunderstand and think he’s being rude.”

  “Right. When I’m rude, Raleigh, there won’t be a single doubt in your mind.” Wade tugged the stopper from a whiskey decanter on the mantel and poured himself a drink. He downed it in one gulp, then returned to stand directly before Drew.

  “You finished here?” It was more a statement than a question. “I’ll walk you out.”

  “Wade.” Caitlin bit her lip. “Perhaps Drew would like a drink? Or some other refreshment?” she asked, torn between the long-instilled duty to be gracious and her wish to be rid of her unwanted guest. Bad enough that she had somehow gotten stuck agreeing to go to the dance with him—she only hoped he wouldn’t tell Wade about it.

  She’d already decided she’d better tell him herself. He disliked Drew Raleigh even more than she did and she knew he’d blow up when he heard.

  “He doesn’t look thirsty to me.” Coolly, Wade eyed the other man. “Caitlin’s busy.”

  “I am?”

  “Yep.” His glance touched her, flickering in one instant from her neatly upswept hair to her white shirtwaist and dark denim skirt. A muscle pulsed in his jaw, then he shifted his gaze to Raleigh, and almost imperceptibly it hardened.

  “Caitlin needs to look over our ranch books. I seem to remember I could have made a subtraction error way back in January. Maybe even another one last June. Could be all of twenty cents involved. And you know how women are—they’re not happy if they don’t get a chance to point out every single one of a man’s errors and shortcomings.”

  “Of which you seem to have many.” But she was smiling at him as she said it. Drew Raleigh observed that smile, and saw the way the formidable foreman of Cloud Ranch grinned back at her. Satisfaction coursed through him.

  Trent’s plan just might work after all. He decided to further test the waters.

  “Fine. Then I guess I’ll be on my way. I’ve accomplished everything I set out to do here.” He walked around Wade, took Caitlin’s hand again, and gently held it. “I’m going to be the luckiest man at the dance.”

  Caitlin saw Wade’s shoulders tense.

  Drew Raleigh released her hand and gave Wade a blithe smile. “Miss Summers has agreed to allow me to escort her to the May Day dance.”

  “Is that so.”

  Raleigh regarded him with mock friendliness. “You going to the dance, Barclay?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “It’s fast approaching—if you want to find yourself a lovely lady to accompany, you ought to decide quickly before all the pretty ones get taken.”

  For one horrible moment, Caitlin thought Wade was going to hit him. She recognized that cold, deadly glint in his eyes. But his voice was low, calm, and even.

  “Thanks, Raleigh. I’ll remember that.”

  “I’ll walk you out, Drew,” Caitlin said quickly.

  To her chagrin, Wade followed them through the hall, onto the porch, and across the yard to the corral.

  Jake Young was seated on a bench outside the barn, repairing his saddle. As Wade and Drew Raleigh eyed each other with barely concealed dislike, and Caitlin chattered away in the sun-dappled yard, he wiped the sweat from his brow and watched them.

  Two of ’em, he thought helplessly. Damm. She’s got both Drew Raleigh and Wade sweet on her. Right along with every other cowpoke in town. His heart sank. It was bad enough having seen the way she and Wade looked at each other that day in Hope. He’d tried to tell himself that it was only because they were both upset about her sister running away, but he had a terrible suspicion it was more than that. Hell, if he didn’t get up the courage to tell Caitlin soon exactly how he felt about her, it might be too late.

  Time after time when he saw her, drove with her into town, helped her with her shooting lessons, he’d wanted to tell her. He dreamed of reciting that poem to her—the one she had told him about that day out by Cougar Canyon.

  “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways . . .”

  He couldn’t remember any more of it than that—but he had to. It’d be so much easier than trying to think of his own words. Because when she looked at him, he couldn’t think at all. He could barely breathe.

  When Raleigh had ridden off, both Caitlin and Wade returned to the house. Wonder if he’s already asked her to the dance, Jake fretted, staring after them. Or maybe that son-of-a-bitch easterner Raleigh did. Bet that’s why he rode out here today. His ripped saddle lay forgotten on the bench.

  I waited too long.

  Despair engulfed him as the sun beat down. But Jake’s feelings were too strong. He wasn’t about to give up yet.

  In the house, Caitlin faced Wade in the parlor.

  The last time she’d seen him alone, she’d been l
ying in his arms. Dawn was glowing outside the window, and her lips were warm from his kiss.

  But now he looked anything but loving, anything but tender. His lean, handsome face was set and grim, his thumbs hooked into his gunbelt. Stubble shadowed his hard jaw, and his eyes gleamed clear and cool as slate.

  “You really hankering to go to the dance with that son of a bitch?”

  “Wade—”

  “Tell me. Yes or no.”

  “It isn’t that simple. He invited me. Properly, politely. I could hardly—”

  “The hell you couldn’t.”

  She fought to keep her temper. Did he think that just because she’d slept with him—heaven help her—he could dictate what she did, with whom? That he just naturally expected she’d have gone to the dance with him—whether he bothered to ask her or not?

  “I hadn’t received any other invitations,” she said quietly. “Under the circumstances, what was I supposed to—”

  “Suit yourself. You want to go with him, that’s up to you.” Wade strode to the window and then paced back. “The two of you’ll have the whole night to cook up some scheme to convince me to let you leave Cloud Ranch and go Lord knows where. And to help Raleigh get his grubby hands on some share of this place he can use as a wedge against Reese’s entire will.”

  “You know I would never do that!” Caitlin admitted there was a time when she would have done anything— anything to leave this ranch—but somehow things had changed. She had changed. Didn’t Wade see that? She pressed her hands to her throat. Nothing was clear anymore—everything in her life was confused, and far too complicated. Including her feelings for this man who was gazing at her so harshly, his face as grim and closed as the day they’d first met in Hope.

  “Reckon I’ll wash up before supper,” Wade growled. “Come to think of it”—he spun around, snatched his hat off the table, and plunked it upon his head—“think I’ll have supper in town. Been a long time since I had a night out.”

  “A night out?” Her heart sinking, Caitlin watched him stalk toward the door. “What do you mean?”