Ana Leigh

by The Mackenzies

  Zach had no problem picking up the tracks again, and after following the trail for thirty minutes, they ended at a tangled wall of mesquite and sagebrush. His instinct told him something wasn’t right.

  A closer inspection revealed barbed wire under the piled brush, and he was able to peer through it enough to see that it appeared to be the entrance to a box canyon.

  He’d been a Ranger too long to be fool enough to ride into a box canyon without knowing what he’d find. Dismounting, he tied his horse to a shrub and began to work his way on foot up the rocks.

  Once at the top, he had a good view of the whole canyon floor. Milling below were at least a couple hundred head of cattle.

  His gaze swept the rocks and crannies at the base of the canyon. Upon seeing no sign of anyone, he climbed back down, opened the entrance, and rode into the canyon.

  Dismounting, he examined several of the cows. They wore the Lazy R brand.

  “Well, boy,” he murmured to his horse, “these cattle sure as hell didn’t just stray into this canyon. The question now: did rustlers hide them here, is Rayburn behind it, or does Mr. Jess Tait have himself a little business on the side?”

  He glanced up and saw a lone horseman on the rim above. Zach mounted quickly and rode out of the canyon.

  “Well, tell me about it,” Kate whispered that evening, as they stood at the entrance to the Harvey House waiting to greet the passengers disembarking from the train. It was the first opportunity the two women had time to chat with each other since Rose had returned from her outing with Stephen Rayburn.

  “He took me for a carriage ride, and told me about his life. He was raised in Missouri and moved to Texas ten years ago after the death of his wife.”

  “Does he have any children?”

  Rose shook her head. “He said he’s unable to have children.”

  “And he’s never remarried?”

  “No. Between grieving and building a successful and very profitable ranch, Stephen just didn’t have time to think about remarrying . . .” Rose flashed a fanciful smile. “Until now.”

  “Oh, Rose, he said that!” Kate enthused, squeezing Rose’s hand. “I’d say that’s very encouraging.”

  “I’ll say,” Rose said. The two girls giggled.

  Then there wasn’t time for any further conversation as they greeted the stream of customers.

  The rest of the evening passed swiftly, and before Rose knew it they were through for the evening. Mr. Billings bade them all good night and sent them on their way.

  “So, did Mr. Rayburn ask to see you again?” Kate asked, picking up the conversation where they’d left off earlier.

  “Yes, the next time he comes to town.”

  “That’s very encouraging, too,” Kate commented with a dimpled smile.

  “I know I’m being foolish, but I hope so. Oh, Kate, Stephen Rayburn more than fills my expectations for a husband. Not only is he rich, but he’s very handsome and a gentleman, too.” Rose drew a deep breath. “Kate, do you think I’m reading too much into a simple afternoon carriage ride?”

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t have asked you out if he weren’t interested, Rose. And the fact that he wants to see you again is even more positive.”

  “I thought so, too, but I’m afraid to trust my own judgment because I want so much for it to be true.”

  “I especially admired how he stood up to that horrible bully, Jess Tait,” Kate said.

  Rose’s eyes widened. “Yes, wasn’t it wonderful! And did you notice how Tait backed down, too?”

  “I sure did. Thanks to Mr. Rayburn, we don’t have to worry about Tait bothering us anymore. Mr. Rayburn’s obviously very influential, even in this lawless town. How old is he, Rose?”

  “Forty-two. That’s actually very young.”

  “Rose, it’s twice as old as you are.”

  “I wouldn’t care if he was three times older,” Rose said with a saucy grin.

  They reached the boardinghouse and started to climb the porch stairs when Rose suddenly halted. “Drat! I left my apron at the restaurant. It got badly stained and must be washed. I’ll have to go back for it.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Kate said.

  “Nonsense, it will only take me a couple minutes to run back and get it.”

  Rose quickly returned back to the restaurant. The light still glowed in the dining room, so she knew Billings was still there.

  She rapped on the front door and called out to him, but he didn’t respond. She repeated it several times, and when he still didn’t hear her she figured he was in the kitchen, so she hurried around to the rear of the building.

  The kitchen was dark. Rose tried the door, and it swung open. She looked around uneasily, aware that the whole area was in darkness except for a faint glow from a lantern on the nearby platform of the train depot.

  “Mr. Billings,” she called out, “it’s Rose.” She stepped into the black kitchen and took a few seconds to adjust her eyes to the darkness. “Mr. Billings?”

  When he failed to answer, she crossed the room. He would never be negligent enough to leave the kitchen door unlocked or a light burning in the dining room. Something had to be wrong. Had he taken ill?

  Rose pushed the kitchen door open and peered into the dining room, then gasped with alarm when she saw him lying on the floor. Rushing over to him, she saw he was unconscious, and put an ear to his chest. To her relief, he was breathing normally. Fearing he’d fallen or had a heart attack, she was about to run for a doctor when he groaned and opened his eyes.

  “Mr. Billings, what happened?”

  Billings sat up. “I don’t know. Someone struck me from behind.” He felt his head. “Oh my, I have a lump on my head.”

  “I’ll get some ice. It will help to reduce the swelling.”

  He suddenly gasped. “Today’s receipts! Where are they?” He began to crawl around on his knees looking for them. “They’re gone! I was just preparing to put them in the safe.” He looked up at her, aghast. “We’ve been robbed, Miss Dubois.” He got to his feet. “I must report this to the sheriff before the thief gets out of town.”

  Rose doubted the sheriff would be of any help, but Billings had already unlocked the front door to leave.

  “If you insist, go ahead. I’ll finish locking up here.”

  “Thank you; expediency is important at times like this. By the way, why did you come back, Miss Dubois?”

  “I forgot my apron,” she said.

  “I see. Well, be sure and turn off the light.” He rushed out the door and down the street.

  Rose went into the kitchen and locked the door, then grabbed her apron off a wall peg in the cloakroom and returned to the dining room. In the whole two years she’d worked at the Harvey House in New Mexico, there had never been an attempt to rob it. In her opinion, Mr. Harvey would be well advised to forget attempting to establish a restaurant here until there was a better effort to maintain some law and order.

  She turned off the light and started to the door. Suddenly a hand clamped over her mouth and she was pulled back against a hard body.

  “Don’t scream, Rosie.” When she nodded, Zach MacKenzie released her.

  Eyes glaring, she spun on her heel to face him. “So you’re the one who robbed us.”

  “It wasn’t me,” he said. “I saw you come in, so I followed you. Then when I heard you talking to Billings, I stayed in the kitchen until he left.”

  “Do you expect me to believe that ridiculous story, MacKenzie?”

  “I’ve no reason to lie to you.”

  “Other than staying out of jail.”

  “If I’d robbed this place, do you think I’d stick around to get caught?”

  “I wouldn’t put anything past you, MacKenzie. Exactly what are you doing here?”

  “I came for this.”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her against him. Cupping her neck, he tilted back her head and captured her mouth with his own. His lips were as firm and warm as she re
membered—and more exciting than her body could resist. His tongue stroked and plundered until she moaned with pleasure, even as she told herself she must stop. She couldn’t allow the exquisite thrill of his kiss to continue blinding out her reasoning.

  Pressing her hands to his chest, she shoved him away, but he kept his hold on her. Her body trembled, and she could only stare breathlessly up at him as his sapphire gaze remained fixed on her flushed face. She waited, transfixed, when he raised his other hand and pulled the pins out of her hair. Weaving his fingers into its thickness, he lowered his head and traced the outline of her lips with his tongue, the day’s stubble on his jaw an arousing scrape against her smooth cheek.

  “Let me kiss you like you want me to, Rosie. Stop putting up a defense when you want this as much as I do.”

  He covered her mouth again, and from the first contact she knew that this time there was no hope for any further resistance. Their lips melded together as the kiss deepened, filling her entire being with such exquisite heat that she thought surely they both would be consumed by the fire. Oh, but it felt so good—burned so brightly. She’d never felt so alive. She reveled in the wanton pleasure of it, molding herself to the muscular warmth of his body.

  “What did I tell you, Rosie? You love it,” he murmured against her lips.

  As his words penetrated her senses, she realized he’d slipped his hand to her breast. She became rigid. What was she doing? She was a pawn in his hands, and he knew it.

  Anger cut through, and she broke away. He took her slap to his face without even blinking, which only increased her fury.

  “I won’t stand for any more of this, MacKenzie.”

  “Then let’s take it to a bed, where it belongs.”

  “I’m grateful to you for saving my life, so I won’t mention that you were here tonight—but I’m telling you for the last time to stay away from me.”

  “Why are you afraid of me, Rose?”

  “I told you, there’s no place in my future plans for a saddle tramp like you.”

  “Your kiss says otherwise, so who are you trying to convince: me or yourself?”

  “Your arrogance is pathetic. What makes you think you’re different from any other man I’ve ever known?”

  “I think you’ve figured that out for yourself.”

  “Whether you believe it or not, I’m not going to let you spoil my plans. I told you my future—”

  “Does not include a saddle tramp like me,” he said scornfully.

  “That’s exactly right. I think I’ve finally met that man who can make my plans come true.”

  “You talking about Rayburn?”

  “You bet I am. He’s interested in me, and I’m not going to let a drifter like you spoil it for me. So why don’t you return the money you stole, and get out of here? I’ll tell Mr. Billings that I found it on the floor.”

  “I’ve already told you that I didn’t steal the money.”

  “Get out of here, Zach. Get out and leave me alone.”

  She opened the door, and he followed her out. After locking the door, she walked away hurriedly.

  He closed the gap between them. “I’ll walk you back to your rooming house. The street’s not safe.”

  “Not as long as you’re around,” she sniped. “And who’s going to protect me from you?”

  “I’m no threat, Rosie. I’d say the only one you need protection from is yourself. I figure you’re gonna lose that battle.”

  They’d reached the boardinghouse. “If I do, it won’t be with you, MacKenzie.”

  He grasped her by the arms, his gaze intense as he looked down into her eyes. “You and I are alike, Rosie. We both know what we want when we see it. I can feel you trembling now, fighting what your body is crying out for. You’re too much woman to keep all that passion contained much longer.”

  “We’ll see about that.” She made no effort to conceal her contempt. “By the way, why are you still in town? Did Mr. Rayburn get wise to you already and kick you off his ranch?”

  “Why should you care, Rosie?” he taunted.

  “I don’t. I’m just curious why you didn’t go back to the ranch with Mr. Rayburn today. If he hasn’t fired you, could it be you remained here because you had a restaurant to rob?”

  “Rayburn didn’t go back to the ranch.”

  His statement took her by surprise. She was sure when Stephen Rayburn left her earlier that he’d mentioned he was returning there. “Really? And what kept him in town?”

  “Her name is Rita. She’s a wh . . . ah, local resident.”

  Rose wanted to cry, seeing all her expectations draining away. If Rayburn really cared about her, how could he leave her to go and spend the evening with a whore? Then again, why should that surprise her? Just when you let your guard down long enough to trust a man, he showed his true colors. Men thought of nothing but satisfying their lust; she’d been naive enough to think that Rayburn might be different. Well, the one person to whom she’d never reveal her disappointment was Zach MacKenzie.

  She looked him squarely in the eyes and smiled broadly. “Well, since I intend to marry him, I’m glad to hear that he’s a healthy, virile male. It should make our marriage considerably more pleasurable. Wouldn’t you say, MacKenzie?”

  Then she marched up the porch stairs.

  Chapter 6

  To everyone’s relief the breakfast and lunch meals passed swiftly the next day, since the Tait gang didn’t appear for the second day in a row. The consensus among the girls was that Stephen Rayburn’s warning must have made some impression on the lawless bully.

  Now with lunch out of the way, the next three hours were free. With high spirits Rose left the restaurant, planning to answer Emily’s letter. As she neared her rooming house a buggy rolled up alongside her.

  Rose glanced up and discovered Zach MacKenzie at the reins. A saddled horse was tied to the rear of the buggy.

  “I thought after your experience the other day, you could use some lessons.”

  “I had that team under control until your friend intentionally spooked the horses.”

  “Rose, it’s not only Tait who can spook a horse. There’s a dozen things that can do it: a tumbleweed, thunder . . .”

  She debated briefly. “All right, Mr. MacKenzie, I’ll take you up on that offer. If we don’t have a repeat of what happened last night.”

  He grinned wickedly. “Who can make that kind of guarantee, Rosie? Do you have a split skirt?”

  “Yes, I do. Why?”

  “You’ll need that to learn how to ride a horse.”

  “I have no desire to learn how to ride horseback. I thought you meant a carriage or wagon.”

  “How do you expect to live out here without knowing how to ride?”

  “That’s what buggies are for,” she sniffed.

  “Rose, not all trails are wide enough for a buggy.”

  “I see no reason why I’d be traveling on such trails; therefore, I have no need to climb on the back of a horse.”

  “This is the West, Rosie. There aren’t always carriages and railroads for transportation. Texas is full of narrow trails and ravines. You’ll find a horse is your best friend out here.”

  What he said made sense. And since it appeared horses were the main means of getting around out here, if Zach MacKenzie was willing to take the time to teach her, she could only profit from it.

  “Okay. It’ll take me a couple minutes to change my clothes.”

  “I can wait; I’m the patient type.” His wicked grin indicated the innuendo referred to more than a change of clothing.

  Rose changed quickly into a split skirt, riding blouse, and boots, and hurried out to the buggy.

  By the time Zach drove to a spot on the outskirts of town where they’d have more privacy, Rose had begun to lose her nerve and wasn’t sure if she still wanted to go through with climbing onto the back of a horse.

  She was convinced of it when she stood beside the horse. The animal seemed as big as an elephant to
her.

  “The important thing is to get as close to the horse as you can,” he said.

  “But it’s so big, Zach. How can I ever control it?”

  “This is a mare, Rose. They’re much smaller than stallions.”

  She was so conscious of his nearness as he stood close behind her that she had to force herself to concentrate on what he was saying.

  “Rule Number One is that you always mount from the left side of the horse.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because you have to swing your right leg over the saddle.”

  She turned her head and their faces were only inches apart. “Why can’t I swing my left leg?”

  “Because you have more control of your right leg.” He nudged her nearer to the mare with his hips. “Gather both reins in your left hand and grasp the saddle horn, or the horse might shy away from you when you try to mount it. Then comes the tricky part. You have to step up into the stirrup with your left foot and swing your right leg over the saddle.”

  Tricky was grossly understated; impossible was more realistic. He literally had to put his hands on her bottom to swing her over.

  After several attempts, he said patiently, “Rose, try to do it all in one motion. Hop and swing. It’s kind of like a square dance, honey. You pick up the gal and swing her around in the same motion without losing the rhythm. This would be the same. Think of the beat of a tune. Om-pah-pah. Om-pah-pah. Hop, left foot, right leg.”

  “Maybe we should have brought along a tuba player to mark the rhythm,” she said.

  His grin crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Try it again. I’ll hold the mare still while you mount her.”

  Grasping the reins and saddle horn as he had taught her, Rose om-pah-pahed herself onto the mare’s back. Now, astride the horse, she felt as if she’d be pitched forward over the horse’s head.

  “Let me adjust those stirrups so that they fit your legs.”

  “You mean you’re going to let go of the horse!” She felt the rise of panic.

  “Relax, honey. The mare’s not going anywhere until you tell it to.”

  Rose clutched the saddle horn with both hands, and by the time he made the adjustment her legs were resting comfortably and her feet had a good foothold in the stirrups. She felt a little more relaxed.