Sally Mae hopped off the porch and grabbed his arm. “Thee will not hit him because of me.”
Her hands were cool on his skin, yet they might as well have been hot embers, the way his nerve endings caught fire. He kept walking. “Wasn’t planning on doing it for you.”
She planted her feet. “For me, because of me—there is no difference in my eyes, Tucker.”
He had two choices. Drag her with him or stop. He stopped. It wasn’t as easy as it should be to ignore the pleading in her big gray eyes. He held his arm out. She ignored his hint, clinging. He kind of liked it. “Then go inside.”
“There is no doubt Lyle is a fool, but he’s…harmless.”
The pause before harmless got Lyle’s complete attention.
“I don’t need a woman to take up for me,” Lyle spit. “I’m not afraid of him.”
“Then thee should be,” Sally Mae snapped. “Have thee not seen the muscle on the man? He could snap thee like a twig.”
Nothing like a woman being honest to crush a man better than any amount of pounding. This time, Tucker only pretended to take a step forward. Lyle stepped back, his mouth working. Sally didn’t give him a chance to get a word out.
“Now get thee back to the saloon.”
“I don’t drink no more. You cured me of that.”
“Do not credit me with God’s light.”
“God didn’t have nothing to do with it.” His expression took on a fervency that was disturbing. “It was all you.”
Tucker removed Sally’s grip from his arm. “Go inside, Sally Mae.”
“No.”
He looked down. “Now.”
She blinked at his tone. “Promise me first that thee will not commit unnecessary violence.”
“I promise.”
She hesitated at the easiness of his reply.
“Go.”
She did, checking over her shoulder, three or four times. He waited until he heard the door squeak shut behind her before closing the distance between him and Lyle. There was a sheen of sweat on the other man’s brow.
“I don’t know what crazy thought is twisting in that brain of yours, Lyle, but stay the hell away from Sally Mae.”
“She’s not yours.”
“No, she’s not, but she’s never going to be yours.”
“She’s a saint.”
Again, that fervency. “Whatever you think she is to you, get it out of your head.”
“Oh, and you’re going to do what? You promised Sally Mae no violence.”
“I promised her no unnecessary violence.” He bared his teeth in a smile and grabbed Lyle by the shirtfront. “There’s a possibility that we differ in opinion as to what’s necessary.”
12
“What the hell did you say to give Lyle Hartsmith the impression that you’re hitching your wagon to his?”
Sally Mae carefully placed the dish towel on the cabinet. She’d known Tucker would come in angry, demanding explanations. That’s why she had quickly ushered Hazel and Davey out via the front door. She’d also thought he’d come in bloody. She glanced at his fist.
His gaze avoided hers. “I didn’t hit him.”
She knew he wouldn’t lie to her, so that only left one reason. He’d honored her wishes. She touched his hand. “I thank thee.”
“For what?”
“For not hurting Lyle.”
Tucker hooked a hand behind her neck. That moment of unease was gone. “It was either him or you.”
“And thee opted for me.”
His beautiful eyes crinkled at the corners and his lips twitched. “Yup.”
He pulled her in one step…two.
She braced her palms against his chest. “Should I be afraid?”
The twitch grew to a soft grin. “Very.”
“All right.”
He laughed. “All right what?”
“I’ll be afraid.”
“Ah, moonbeam, you’re never afraid of me.”
That was true. She placed her palms over the bulge of his biceps and squeezed. There was no give. She could understand why he was always showing them off, but still it bothered her that other women could see the perfection of his arms. “Why do thee never wear sleeves?”
“They don’t fit.”
She blinked. “They don’t?” She’d imagined many things—a need to show off to women, warn men, but that ready-made shirts didn’t fit him? She’d never thought of that.
“Store-bought clothes don’t fit over my arms. So either I have to take up a wife, sewing or I cut them off. It’s easier to cut.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t considered anything so practical. Instead, she’d attached motives.
He tilted his head to the side. “What did you think?”
“I think I’m no better than anyone else.”
His eyebrow cocked up. The familiar, endearing habit had its predictable effect on her heartbeat.
“Oh, you’re better than anyone.”
“Thee are still angry.”
“Pissed as hell.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t punch the SOB in the mouth, like he deserved.”
She slid her hands up his arms to his neck.
“I’m glad thee did not commit violence in my name.”
“Don’t be.” His hand slipped to the hollow of her spine, tucking her against him. “I’m going to take the payment out of your hide.”
“All right.”
He snorted. “Any other woman would be shaking in her boots.”
“Then any other woman would be a fool.”
“Any other woman might realize I have ulterior motives for my restraint.”
“Thee do?”
His fingers traced the curve of her jaw. Hers slid up his cheek. “Uh-huh. It’s entirely possible, Sally Mae, that I want you all soft and complacent.”
“Why?”
“So, when I ask you how much trouble Lyle has been, you’ll answer me honestly.”
Oh, shoot. How could she not have seen that coming? Tucker had as much brain as brawn. She never should have hesitated before she called Lyle harmless, but in that split second she’d remembered the way he’d followed her, the look in his eyes, the size of him and how she hadn’t been able to break his grip.
She tried to believe there was good in everyone, a part of God that had to be respected, but there was something in Lyle’s eyes when he looked at her that made her nervous. She didn’t know how to answer. Telling Tucker the truth would send him after Lyle. She rubbed her left forearm, the faint bruises from Lyle’s grip still there. She’d considered going to the sheriff, but he was rather ineffective. There was also the reality that he would accuse her of inciting Lyle’s lust by virtue of her profession. A nurse didn’t have much moral ground to stand on.
“That’s an awfully long silence, moonbeam.”
It was going to get longer, because she didn’t know what to tell him. A lie stuck on her tongue, but the truth was too fraught with danger—to Tucker, Lyle, herself.
Tucker’s fingertips brushed her forehead. The stray hairs tickled as they dragged across her flesh.
“Has he been pestering you?”
Thank God. A way out. “Just a little.”
His fingertips skimmed her temple, lingered on her too-fast pulse. “A man who’s only pestering a little doesn’t declare himself affianced.”
“Why couldn’t thee be all brawn and no brain?”
He smiled. “You wouldn’t like me then.”
The smile didn’t reach his eyes. “No, but I could’ve fooled thee a lot easier.”
His fingers tucked under her chin, tilted her gaze to his. “Spit it out, Sally Mae.”
“Apparently, while Lyle was staying with me, he discovered his sense of…” She let the explanation trail off. Some things a woman just wasn’t comfortable mentioning.
“Sense of what?”
He just couldn’t let it go. She glared at him. “Being a man.”
“What?”
“Apparently before his injury, he’d been having difficulties expressing himself to women.”
“Lyle’s a clod. He wouldn’t know how to talk to a woman if she came up and handed him a book.”
“He wasn’t concerned with speech.”
“Ah.” His thumb settled over her pulse and pressed, connecting them heartbeat to heartbeat. “What was he concerned about?”
“Thee just want to hear me say it.”
“Yup.”
He could be so aggravating. “As best I can figure out, sometime during the time he was here he regained his virility. Something he feels is due to my presence.”
“He thinks you cured him of a limp willy?”
“Yes.”
“No wonder he looks at you like you’re the Second Coming.”
“Don’t blaspheme.”
“I’m not blaspheming, honey, I’m just talking the truth.”
She rested her cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he tracked hers through her pulse. “His renewed abilities are more likely due to a lack of whiskey.”
“I’ll set him straight.”
There was too much satisfaction in the statement to suit her.
“No, thee won’t.”
“Giving me orders?”
“Yes. Thee will cause a ruckus that will have people talking more than they already do.”
“I’ll be discreet.”
Tucker didn’t know the meaning of the word when his emotions were aroused. He went in seeing nothing but his goal, risking everything to attain it. And his emotions were definitely involved now. She could feel the tension humming through him. He couldn’t wait to get to Lyle and set him straight. She stroked his chest gently in the way that soothed him after they made love.
“Setting him straight will start talk,” she added, thinking about the latest instance in the store and Hazel’s warning. “People are not going to believe that thee are innocently staying in the barn.”
“I’m not.”
He could be so impossible. “Lyle will get over it. Find some other woman who appeals to him and then he’ll move on. Thee just need to wait until then.”
He caught her hand. “Petting me isn’t going to get you your way.”
He made it sound as though she thought of him as a pet tabby cat when in reality he was wild, unpredictable. She frowned. That wasn’t right, either. She’d always been able to count on him. “I was soothing thee.”
He smiled down at her, his fingers in her hair tugging her head back. For all the tension in him, his mouth, when it met hers, was incredibly gentle. “I don’t need soothing.”
“Thee are upset.”
“I don’t trust Lyle.”
“I will be fine. He’s not all that brave.”
He kissed her cheek and her mouth again. “You have a way of inspiring men, Sally mine.”
She shivered at the possessive term. “Not on purpose.”
“That’s the problem. It doesn’t sit well with me, leaving you here with a man wanting you.”
Her heart dropped. He’d just gotten back. “Thee are leaving again?”
“That’s why I’m back early. I’ve got to send a wire.”
“Thee found Ari?”
“No, we didn’t find Ari, but we’ve got a good lead. Which is why I need to wire Desi. We need some more information.”
“This is good, though.”
He nodded. “It’s more hope than we’ve had in a bit.”
“Why do thee not sound happy?”
“The woman we found is dead. We’re trying to establish whether the body could be Ari’s or not.”
Body? Dear heavens. She slid her arms around Tucker’s waist and hugged him tightly. “How will thee do that?”
“It looks like the woman had a broken leg that had healed at some point in the past.”
For that he had to have seen the bone. “She’s been dead a long time?”
His chin rested on her head. “Yes.”
He sounded so weary. And no wonder—he’d had to dig up a grave, examine a body, and now he faced sending the bad news home. “I’m sorry. Thy friend Desi will be devastated.”
“What’s devastating her is the not knowing.” His jaw slid along her hair with each word, tugging at her scalp the way the reality of what he was doing for his friend tugged at her heart. He was such a good man.
“I hope it’s not her.”
“Whether Ari is alive or dead, Desi will feel better if she knows.”
She could understand that. Every time he left, she worried that something would happen to him and she’d never know, just be condemned to wonder forever.
He brushed her forehead again. He still had tension in his muscle. “I don’t need thee to fight for me. Give my way a chance.”
“My way is faster.”
“Thee just start swinging.”
“It’s the most effective means for getting what I want.”
A moment of boldness seized her. “I ask this of thee because I don’t want to see thee hurt.” Opening her palm over his heart, she confessed. “Not inside or outside.” She didn’t flinch away when he frowned. “I care about thee.”
That tension snapped to rigidity. “Don’t.”
“I dream sometimes of a future with thee.”
His jaw muscles bunched. “That’s never going to happen.”
“I know.”
“It can’t happen.”
“I know that, too.”
“Your idealism aside, it’s a hard life for a mixed child, Sally Mae.”
“Thee would love thy children, Tucker.”
“I would, but the world wouldn’t.”
She didn’t want to hear it. At the moment, she wanted the illusion that she and Tucker could have this gift given to them. That it could grow as they grew for the rest of their lives, so she didn’t answer. Just hugged him again.
He didn’t let the subject go. “It wouldn’t be just the adults. Kids would find every reason to mock a boy or else find reasons to beat on him.”
“Not all.”
He didn’t allow her to turn her face away. “Yes, all. A little girl wouldn’t be invited to parties. She’d be slighted. And when she got old enough, not viewed with respect.”
Even though she’d seen for herself that he was right, Sally couldn’t imagine anyone slighting her child. “We could move back East.”
“Prejudice doesn’t stop at the state line, Sally mine. It’s the same in the East. Maybe a little more refined, but the same.”
Their relationship, its potential, where would they live, those were issues they’d always danced around. A dream too fragile to stand up to scrutiny. His fingers grazed her lower lip, drifted to her cheek and then down to the middle of her jaw, as if he was memorizing her. Was he thinking of leaving? If so, she had nothing more to lose. She took a breath, held it for a heartbeat and then asked, “Would thee be willing to try peace, Tucker?”
He went as still as she felt inside. “To what end?”
“Sometimes, when I look in thy eyes, I see how weary thee are.”
“Some days are more trying than others.”
“That’s not what I see.”
“It doesn’t matter what I wish for, Sally.”
“It’s thy choice, Tucker. To live in peace or war.” His silver eyes sought hers. In them she saw the glint of the sun. Of hope.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, if thee would try peace, then I would be willing to try compromise.” For the first time ever, she saw him flabbergasted. Oh, it wasn’t anything obvious. The man’s jaw didn’t drop. He didn’t gasp. There was just a slightly stunned look in his eyes.
“Thee cannot be surprised that I am thinking this way. There has always been attraction between us, always a feeling that we can’t resist.”
“I resist just fine.”
She smiled and put her hand over his where it rested on her buttock.
“Yes, I see how
well thee resist.”
He laughed, but didn’t give her the obvious answer. Maybe he was thinking about it. Oh, please, let him be thinking.
She asked, “Do thee intend to pretend thee won’t mind if I become interested in other men?”
“No. I won’t pretend that.”
“Then thee need to decide, Tucker, what thee are willing to sacrifice when thee come back to me this time.”
“Just like that?”
She sighed, her heart racing, beating in her throat, her fingertips dampening where they touched his cheek. Oh, she loved this man so. Maybe in another time, when skin color didn’t matter, in another place, where people were just allowed to be, this would be an easy move forward. But it wasn’t. This was now. And now was precarious and scary, but very worth the risk. Of that she was certain.
“Yes. There is a time limit on this choice, Tucker. A future for us together will not be easy. I need a man who has the courage to fight for it. Not with his fists.” She brought his hand to her lips and kissed the palm. “But with his heart.”
“Are you calling me a coward?”
For all the heat in his snarl, he didn’t pull his hand away. She folded his fingers over her kiss. “Yes.”
“Son of a bitch.”
Silence stretched between them. Fear at the enormity of what she was doing stretched right along with it. Memories flashed in Sally’s mind—of Tucker holding her hand in the blackest hours of the night, and cooking her breakfast when she was too devastated by Jonah’s death to take care of herself. Tucker mopping her floors after the wave of mourners who’d come in the rain to pay their respects. Tucker standing guard at the cemetery as she’d cried her heart out. Tucker always there. Tucker, who had so much strength. Tucker, who would fight for so many things. Tucker, who’d never offered to fight for them. He’d probably tell her it was because he wasn’t a fool, but she knew the real reason. Because this was a fight he wanted to win too much. A fight he couldn’t bear to lose.
“I want an answer.” It just popped from her mouth.
His eyes narrowed. “You’re backing me into a corner.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because…”
Because if she didn’t, he’d end it. For all the right reasons. To protect her. To protect himself. To protect their futures. She could see the resolve in his eyes. The problem was, she didn’t want a future without him.
Tucker’s Claim Page 18