“What?”
“First, tell me what thee decided.”
“What makes you think I made a decision?”
“Thee are not a man who lingers in doubt.”
“I decided to try.”
But that was before he’d walked in and found Lyle beating her. Tears welled in her eyes.
“I know.” He stroked the back of his fingers lightly over the bruise darkening her cheek. “That didn’t last long.”
She shook her head. “Are thee still willing to try?”
Shit, was he? He was tired, but not stupid. “Are you ever going to forget how I killed Lyle?”
She shook her head again. “But we have many years ahead of us in which to make new memories.”
“None are going to top that.”
She took his hand and put it over her belly before coming up onto her elbows. “Not even our child?”
He memorized the shape of her, thinking how the soft, warm flesh would burgeon with his child. He wanted his child. He wanted Sally Mae. Damn, he wanted the future she held out like a lure. At least a piece of it. “I can’t promise not to fight back.”
She lay back down and placed her hand over his, connecting the three of them in one moment. “Will thee promise not to fight first? To try everything else?”
“What good will that do?”
“It would be enough.”
“For what?”
She brought his hand to her lips and kissed the back. “A start.”
She didn’t hide the fear in her eyes, the doubt, but she didn’t hide the hope, either. What the hell was he supposed to do with that much hope? Her answer gave him his. He was going to try.
14
Tucker crested the hill above the prosperous Montoya Ranch. Situated eight hours south of Lindos, the ranch was well-tended and—Tucker glanced up—well-guarded. Sunlight glinted off the rifle of the guard standing at the top of the ledge to the right, one foot propped up on a rock, his rifle resting across his thigh. The man was too far away to identify, but from his broad build and the stance that suggested a bone-deep arrogance, topped by a touch of I-dare-you insolence, Tucker was willing to bet it was one of the Lopez brothers. Tough men, bred to the land, they were completely loyal to Isabella Montoya. And deadly in their dedication. If the guard hadn’t recognized Tucker, he’d have been stopped. By a bullet most likely. The brothers had been a bit touchy ever since Tejala’s gang had overrun the ranch and kidnapped Bella. Tucker lifted his rifle in a salute before surveying the ranch below for signs of Sam.
In one of the corrals, a couple cowboys were working with a green-broke horse, taking it through the initial steps to do the short turns necessary for cutting cattle. He made a note. The horse showed promise. His gaze moved to the house. On the sprawling porch, he could see Señora Montoya dressed in her customary black, tatting. No doubt she was creating something for the grandchildren she hoped to have. The one Sam seemed amazingly willing to give her “in time,” as he put it to soften the blow for Bella, who wanted children now but couldn’t seem to conceive.
Tucker shook his head. Life was strange. Never would he have expected Sam “Wild Card” MacGregor to be longing for a wife and family. Never would he have expected to be facing marriage and family himself. Yet here he was, about to ask Sam to stand with him as his best man when he married Sally Mae. No doubt, Sally would say the Lord works in mysterious ways. He shook his head. Sally said a lot of things, believed in things with a purity that amazed him. The courage with which she backed those beliefs scared him, because it made no allowances for the foulness of human nature. They offered her no “real world” protection. But then again, that’s why she had him.
Tucker urged Smoke down the hill. The horse responded with his usual lazy walk. Tucker always found it funny that people thought Smoke couldn’t even get out of his own way, but people liked to judge by appearances, and with Smoke, the appearance of laziness was all they saw, missing the depth of the horse’s chest and the muscle development in his legs that told the real story. They missed that, the same way they missed how Sally’s gentleness masked a fighting spirit and a will of iron. Both of which constantly put her in danger, with no way to protect herself.
He sighed and rubbed his hand across his face. It hadn’t been easy leaving her. Outside of Hell’s Eight, there wasn’t a white man in the territory who would be all right with her marrying Tucker. And once they knew she was pregnant by him, they’d come calling to vent their lust and anger. Damn, she was crazy to be hitching up with him. What could she possibly expect?
A start.
Soft and sweet, her answer came again. And just as before, it tore at his insides, spilling hope into the emotionless void he’d thrived in, making him vulnerable. Making him want.
God—He cut off the curse. Son of bitch. He wanted her. Sally Mae might be crazy, but she was his crazy lady and he needed to get back to her. He’d left her with a gun, but he knew damn well she wouldn’t use it except to maybe pray that it would shoot automatically. Heck, she probably wouldn’t even do that. Praying for a weapon to go off likely violated her pacifist beliefs. He thought of the big windows in her house, the token locks on the doors. It would be very easy for someone to get to her. Not that there was any reason to believe anyone was going to try. He’d taken care of Lyle’s body. No one would ever find it and since the man was known for just upping and moving on, his disappearance wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. Hazel would certainly keep the secret, but Tucker couldn’t settle his nerves. Sally was too vulnerable here.
He rode toward the house, nodding to the heavily armed vaqueros who were busy with assorted jobs. He might have promised Sally Mae that he wouldn’t raise his hands in violence, but he hadn’t promised not to hire somebody who would. No doubt Sally Mae would call that splitting hairs, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t heading across the country defenseless, with the most precious things in his world dangling like free pickings for any jackass who wanted a shot.
There was a shout from the house, a flash of red skirts, and a woman came flying across the lawn. Isabella shouted his name again, waving her hand in greeting, calling something over her shoulder to her mother before lifting her skirts and running toward him. Despite his worry, Tucker couldn’t help smiling. No one could resist Bella’s smile. Bella was all open affection, irrepressible spirit and unshakable loyalty. And for some reason, she had a soft spot for him.
“What brings you here?” she asked, coming to a stop so hard, right in front of him, that she stumbled. Smoke tossed his head and snorted. Tucker calmed him with a pat.
“You need to be more careful, Bella. Don’t want you rattling the brains of the newest MacGregor before he gets here.”
She waved away his reprimand. “This joke you make, it grows old. Especially as I am not with child.”
“Just watching out for my future nephew.”
“Ha! You just want me wrapped in wool blankets away from the world.”
“That would be cotton wool and what would be the harm in that?”
Her smile brightened her face. “I would be bored.”
And a bored Bella, according to Sam, got into trouble. With her beauty, fiery temper and persistent sense of humor, Bella had been giving Sam a run for his money since the day they’d met. But she’d also given Sam back his smile, and as far as Tucker was concerned that earned her his friendship for life.
“Did you come to see Sam?” Bella asked, placing her hand on his boot, where it rested in the stirrup.
He shook his head at the familiarity. There was no sense telling her again that she shouldn’t be doing such things, that others might interpret her natural friendliness incorrectly. Isabella saw the world as it truly was, when she chose to, but she wasn’t one to bow to any convention that didn’t suit her.
She smiled up at him, letting him know she understood his thoughts. “You do not lecture me. You are learning.”
Again, he couldn’t help but smile back. This time, not becaus
e her smile was so infectious, but because of what she represented. A future that he never thought he’d have. A wife to come home to. Children to tuck into bed. It didn’t matter that it had started as a mistake. It didn’t matter that others would object. Sally Mae was his now. He’d hold her close.
“Maybe I am.”
“And maybe you can learn in other areas, too?”
“Such as?”
“What a beautiful woman Sally Mae is?”
“That’s none of your business.”
She shrugged. “That does not mean it shouldn’t be yours.”
He tipped his hat back. “What would you say if I told you it already is?”
She blinked in shock and then her smile softened. “I would say I am very happy for you both.”
“The rest of the world won’t think so.”
She shrugged. “You will have your friends and each other. The rest of the world does not have to matter.”
It did, but he didn’t have it in him to burst Bella’s bubble. “So, is Sam around?”
She motioned to the barn. “He is not happy with the grain we were sold. He discusses it with the merchant.”
When Sam discussed things, they usually went his way, or went violent. He cocked an eyebrow at Bella. “How are things going?”
She shrugged. “There is much yelling.”
“On Sam’s part?”
“No. My Sammy never yells. He has other ways of delivering his point.”
Tucker knew exactly what prompted that grin. Sam could be the most aggravating man in the world, but he was definitely the one you wanted backing you in a fight, and he was definitely not the one you wanted to catch you if you were cheating.
Just then, there was a crash in the barn and a man in a blue shirt and black pants came flying out the door. And not of his own volition. Tucker laughed.
“Looks like Sam just settled things.”
Bella frowned and placed her hands on her full hips. “I told him not to get violent.”
“Seems to me if there ever was a time to get violent, it would be when you’re being cheated.” He held out his hand. Bella took it. He pulled her up behind him. As she settled, she fussed.
“We are trying to make a success of the ranch.” She tugged at her skirt. “We are trying to be leaders. To do this, we must be seen as strong, yet friendly.”
He watched as Sam kicked the man in the ass, sending him forward onto his hands and knees. “You might need to refresh Sam’s memory on that.”
“One can be firm without being aggressive.”
“You’ve been talking to Sally Mae.”
“She is an intelligent woman.”
Yeah. She was. Tucker reined Smoke around. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, teaching Sam moderation.”
“Sam can learn.”
The merchant scrambled to his feet. Sam pulled his hat down over his brow.
“You keep believing that, honey,” Tucker said.
“I will.”
Bella’s arms came around his waist. It was a friendly hug, nothing sexual about it, but when Sam looked over for a split second, Tucker saw his smile slip.
He nudged Smoke in Sam’s direction. “Is he still jealous of you?”
“He will go to his grave that way.”
“And you don’t mind?”
She shook her head and waved at Sam. “No. He would not be my Sam if he did not love with all his heart.”
Sam met them in the middle of the yard. Behind them, the merchant scrambled to his rig.
“Howdy, Tucker.”
“Howdy, Sam.” He jerked his chin toward his shoulder. “I found something of yours in the yard.”
“So I see.” Sam held up his arms to Bella. “Come here.”
She went, in a rustle of cotton and a happy sigh. “You have settled things with the merchant?”
Sam glanced over. “Looks like.”
She hugged him hard, burying her face in his chest. Her voice was muffled. “We must work on your ways of persuasion.”
Sam laughed and ran his hand over her hair, kissing the top of her head. “All right.”
He met Tucker’s gaze, a question in his. Long association made words unnecessary. Tucker nodded.
“Let me go, pequeña. I think Tucker needs to talk to me.”
She leaned back. “Man talk, yes?”
Sam smiled down at her. A body couldn’t help but smile at Isabella. “Yes.”
“Then I will go do women things, like make coffee.”
“Now that, Bella, would be appreciated.”
She laughed and tossed her head, causing the thick braid of her hair to swing against her back. “But then you will owe me.”
Sam laughed, curved his hand behind her neck and kissed her harder, then shook his head. “Well, for sure I’ll be paying up.” He turned her toward the house and patted her butt through her thick skirts. “Go tend to your work, and I’ll tend to mine.”
Her laugh trailed behind her as she obeyed.
Sam didn’t take his gaze from her until she went into the house. As if she knew he watched, she gave him a twitch of her hips. Sam’s smile grew.
“Good to see you doing that again,” Tucker said as he dismounted.
Sam turned and slapped his glove against his hand. “Kind of hard not to, around Bella.”
“Yep, that woman has a way about her.”
“So what brings you out here?”
“I’m looking for my best man.”
Sam paused. “As in ‘best man at a gun fight’ or ‘best man at a wedding’?”
“A wedding.”
“Dare I ask who the lucky lady is?”
“You may.”
“Sally Mae?”
“Yes.”
“Dare I ask how you pulled that off?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think you’d ever get her to the altar.”
“Some things can’t be avoided.”
Sam narrowed his gaze and pulled a smoke out of his pocket. “She’s pregnant?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you feel about it?”
He should be upset. He should be horrified. He should be a lot of things, but what he was was the most shocking of all. “I do believe I’m happy.”
Sam’s expression didn’t change. “Good.” He lit a sulfur, and put it to the end of his smoke. Tucker had to wait for Sam to take a draw before he got to his point. “You’re going to be a good father.”
“Going to have to be. Have to be a damn good husband, too. Being married to me is not going to be easy for Sally Mae.”
“What was there in the choices the woman’s made to date that makes you think she likes easy?”
He didn’t have a ready answer.
“She comes, as a pacifist, to the most violent place in the country, works as a nurse, despite folks’ opinions of nurses, takes up being a doctor when her husband dies, and for a lover, she takes a man everyone else sees as Indian.”
“I am Indian.”
“You’re no more Indian than you are white.”
“The half that doesn’t show, doesn’t matter to most.”
“True enough.” He took another draw on his smoke. “But I imagine, to Sally Mae, you’re the same as you are to Bella and me. You’re just Tucker.”
“The woman has no common sense.”
“On that we’re not going to agree,” Sam said, walking back toward the barn. Tucker followed. “Any woman who can see past that mask of belligerence you wear, has a lot of common sense. She’s also got a lot of grit mixed with her softness.” Sam stopped and ground his smoke out under his heel. “Don’t you go underestimating her. And don’t go shortchanging yourself. You deserve her.”
The barn door squealed as he opened it. Tucker caught the door as Sam walked through. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“Well, what you think doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?”
“I like to think so.” The coolness of the barn wrapped
around Tucker as he stepped inside. Rays of sunlight filtered through the slats. The familiar scent of horses and hay greeted his next breath. Familiar, peaceful scents.
“Seems to me what matters was sealed up nice and tight for you, by fate.”
A sorrel stuck its head out over the door of its stall and whickered a greeting.
Tucker patted the horse’s neck before scratching behind its ears.
Sam bent and picked a saddle up off the floor. “Should have kicked that merchant again for making me treat good tack with such disrespect. So when’s the wedding?”
“Three days from now.”
He cast Tucker a glance as he carried the saddle to the side. “Not wasting time, are you?”
“No.”
The horse bumped his head against Tucker’s chest in a demand he scratch again.
Sam chuckled. “Red will keep you all day doing that.”
“He knows what he wants.”
Sam threw the saddle over an empty stall door. “Do you?”
“What?”
“Know what you want?”
“Meaning?”
“Is this marriage what you want?” He turned to face Tucker. “Isabella and I will take the baby, if that’s a concern.”
It was a viable solution. Nobody would question the baby’s parentage if it lived with Sam and Isabella as Bella had darker skin and eyes and Sam was blond. It would grow up accepted and protected. But without Sally Mae. Tucker straightened. “What the hell are you getting at, Sam?”
“That you don’t have to marry the woman.”
The hell he didn’t. “She’s pregnant. The child’s mine.”
“Never thought it wasn’t. Just wanted you to know you have an alternative, if you want it.”
“I don’t.”
“Then act like it.”
“Shut up, Sam.” Tucker cut Sam off, saving him the trouble of stating the obvious. Tucker had heard it all in his youth. How he was just a darker version of his father. A keg of dynamite waiting to explode, his future as clear as his father’s present.
Sam waved his hands. “Before you take a swing at me, hear me out.”
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