Resisting Pressure (Rhinestone Cowgirls Book 5)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  And then she was gone.

  He plopped down onto the chair and calmed his breathing. He’d known something lurked in her past, and as harmful as it was, he didn’t regret that she’d told him. Every cell in his body urged him to run after her, tell her it’d be okay, but the logical side to him knew he had no choice but to give her time. She had just opened a part of her that she’d sealed long ago and she needed to come to terms with the fact that she had. Would she also see that he wasn’t the one who ran? He hoped she’d realize that he had no plans of running either. She’d been hurt by a coward years ago, one that deserved a dose of his own medicine, and she’d punished herself long enough.

  He leaned back into the chair and sighed. He hoped in time she would see just where his heart was.

  ****

  Violet and Molly were sitting on the porch drinking lemonade while Sam was asleep inside of the house. It’d been three days since she’d left home, and the same amount of time since Violet had seen Keefer.

  After telling him about her past, she’d taken a long drive, gathering her thoughts before they suffocated her. She didn’t regret telling him the truth, but she regretted how she’d told him. He’d said he cared for her and she’d used her past against him as leverage. She had been so wrapped up in her own emotions and anger that she hadn’t stopped to think that he didn’t deserve her blast of temper.

  She loved him, but she needed time and since he hadn’t even tried to approach her, she thought maybe her plan had worked. His feelings had changed for her. No man wanted to hear that the woman he loved had slept with many men, not out of love, but for a salve to her internal wounds. It had taken her a long time to understand that. However, as she looked back on her sex life, she had never enjoyed it, until Keefer came along.

  Looking at Molly, Violet realized the girl needed to hear that she wasn’t alone. It was time Violet faced her own demons before she started dismembering someone else’s.

  So, Violet told the younger woman what had happened in the past.

  “I’m glad you told me, Violet.” The bruising on Molly’s face was healing quickly. “I’m sorry it occurred, but you have come so far. I realize that I’m better off without Charles.”

  “Don’t use me as an example of what to do though, honey. If something wrong happens to us, we have to get help. What Charles did to you was wrong. You deserve better and any man that loves you, really loves you, would never hurt you the way Charles has. I might not be the best person to give you advice, but you need to stay away from him. Stay away before Sam is hurt.”

  “I could never let anything happen to my son.”

  “I know you wouldn’t.” Violet stood up. “I’ll go and grab us another lemonade.” She took the glasses, headed inside and into the kitchen. Ruby, Jobe, and Jack were in town and the place was quiet. Cal had stopped earlier to see Molly and Sam but wouldn’t be back until later in the evening.

  She filled each glass with ice then poured lemonade in. She heard a loud engine coming up the driveway, followed by the slamming of the screen door. She hurried out of the kitchen to see who it was and found Molly holding Sam against her chest, huddled by the staircase. The fearful girl had wide eyes and pale features. “What is it, Molly?”

  She slowly lifted her hand, pointing at the door.

  Violet looked out in time to see the rusty old pick up hauling ass up the lane, kicking up clouds of dust in its wake. “Is that Charles?” Not hearing an answer, she turned and found Molly as pale as a ghost. She didn’t need to hear her answer. Violet stepped out on the porch just as a man with an olive complexion and blonde hair stepped from the truck. Once he saw her standing there, a smirk crossed his lips. “Well, well…we’ve never met. I’m Charles Peterson.”

  She swallowed the acid building in her throat, looking into the distance, past the field of purple flowers and barns, hoping that someone saw Molly’s husband approach. She knew Jobe had said something about building a new fence today.

  When she didn’t respond, his smile widened. “I’m here to see my wife.”

  Violet snapped out of it. “Molly doesn’t want to see you.”

  The smile fizzled—some. “I don’t know what she’s filled your head with—”

  “Not a thing besides the truth. Bruises speak for themselves, Mr. Peterson,” she forced the words through pinched lips.

  “What the hell do you mean, missy? I haven’t left one bruise on her purdy face.”

  “Save your breath, turn around and get back into that beat up truck and head on home.”

  He swiped a hand across his cheek. “Now why would I do such a thing when I didn’t get what I came for?”

  “If you don’t leave, you might end up with more than you bargained for. We have a ranch full of testosterone,” she threatened.

  His jaw hardened. “I don’t take kindly to threats, ma’am.”

  “And I don’t take kindly to cowards.” She straightened her backbone.

  “What the hell?” he shouted. “Molly. I know you’re in there. You best get out here now. You’ve imposed upon these people long enough. Time for you and the boy to get home.”

  Violet caught the man’s gaze and then stepped to the edge of the porch. She’d protect Molly and the baby with her life if it came to that point. She didn’t trust this man at all.

  Peterson snarled. “Git my woman out here!”

  “That woman is independent and can make her own decisions. She’s decided to stay here. Now you need to respect that fact. If you care for her, you will.”

  “You’ve all brainwashed her. I know that boy Cal came into my home and forced her to leave. She’d never do it on her own.”

  A clicking sound made Violet look behind her. Sapphire was a few feet away, a shotgun held up and straight at Peterson. There wasn’t one quiver in her hands or doubt in her eye. “I believe my sister has asked you to leave. Does this persuade you to listen?”

  Violet knew her sister meant business.

  Realizing he was overpowered, he backed up and stood close to the driver’s door of his truck. “This aint the end, Molly. Trust you me, this ain’t the end.” He targeted Violet in his line of sight, a disarming smile dancing at the corner of his lips. “You’ve done messed with the wrong man, purdy lady.” He opened the door and climbed in. Once the truck had disappeared down the lane, Violet inhaled sharply and turned to Sapphire. “You can put that away now.”

  Sapphire lowered it, aiming it at the ground. “Damn. Didn’t think I’d have to be holding a gun on some red-neck bastard first thing this morning.” She smiled. “That’s more adrenaline than drinking coffee.”

  The screen door opened. Molly stood with Sam still tightly clutched against her bosom. “This is all my fault.”

  Violet went to her, hugging her thin, shaking shoulders. “No, it’s not. You have to stay strong. He wants you to weaken under his threats. That’s how men like him do.”

  “He means it though. It isn’t safe. He will harm us if he can.”

  “That’s why we Stone women know how to handle ourselves. He’ll get the idea that you want nothing to do with him,” Sapphire said. “Now I need caffeine. Lots of it.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Keefer listened as Cal told him what had happened with Peterson showing up at the ranch earlier. Every muscle in Keefer’s body tightened and an anger like none other burned its way through his veins. He could barely stand still as Cal finished his explanation.

  “The bastard had enough guts to set foot here, on this ranch?”

  “He certainly did, but he was taught a lesson at the end of a shotgun.” Cal laughed and smacked his hand against his thigh. “He got the idea that next time he won’t be leaving without a shot gun shell in his ass.”

  “You were right about this guy. He’s got a few screws loose.”

  “I have to get going.” Cal rubbed his jaw. “I’m getting Molly and Sam and taking them to run some errands. She’s decided to file for divorce. Can’t say I ever saw
this day coming, but glad it’s finally here.”

  “Sounds good, man. It’s time she disintegrates any union with that bastard Peterson.”

  Once alone, Keefer stood at the fence for a long time, watching the gelding that was healing from being stuck in the barbed wire. Thankfully, he wasn’t seriously injured.

  Luckily, nothing happened to the ladies when Peterson had shown up.

  Keefer rubbed the area between his brows. He hadn’t seen Violet in a few days. He’d done his best in giving her space, but he wasn’t sure anything would smooth out. It angered him beyond belief that some coward could come along and threaten her.

  Pushing away from the fence, he headed toward his truck. It was time he paid a visit to Charles Peterson. If the man had balls enough to come up on the property of the Walters clan and make threats, then he was capable of doing anything, but not as long as Keefer had anything do with it.

  He drove his truck into town and pulled into the run down saloon, Sigourney’s, seeing the rusted out truck of Peterson parked in the front. Figured. The man was at his second home.

  Getting out, Keefer strolled into the bar and glanced around the dilapidated space. The walls were peeling. The few tables were wobbly and broken. And three drunken men held up the bar, one being who Keefer was looking for.

  Keefer sat on the stool and ordered a beer from the bartender. Peterson’s head was down and he was staring into his almost empty whiskey. “Rough day, man?”

  Peterson’s head wobbled. “You ain’t a kiddin’.” Once Peterson saw who was next to him, the words fizzled and his lids widened, showing off blood shot eyes. His tan faded some. “What are you doing here?”

  “Not here for the scenery or company, I can tell you that,” Keefer snarled. “How about another here for Mr. Peterson.” The bartender nodded and went to grab the drink.

  “I can buy my own,” Peterson slurred.

  “Oh, I’m sure you can. But let’s call this a precursor.”

  “What fir?”

  “For what I’m about to tell you.” The other man’s double chin quaked. Once his full drink was in front of him, he drank it down in one gulp. “I hear you paid a visit out at the Walters ranch today.”

  “You know how it is, Lane. My wife is out there. She doesn’t want this anymore than I do. Cal forced her to leave me.”

  “I have it on good standing that Molly is happy where she’s at. It’s time for you to accept the fact that your marriage is over. Drink yourself to death if that’s what it takes for you to get over it, but the facts are facts. I’m just here to give you some friendly advice. Don’t come around Molly again. She’s made her choice. Now for the first time in your life, be a man and take it like one and do the right thing. Realize she deserves better.” Keefer patted him on the back, starting to get up.

  “It’s about that bitch that talked her into this, ain’t it. That real purdy one with the dark hair and ass like a twenty year old stripper. Mmm-hmmm. I heard tale she’s been keeping your bed warm. With a name like Violet, I bet she has a flower that smells real good.” His laughter came out as a cackle.

  Keefer sat back down, the bartender turned and headed down the other end of the bar. “Because I know you’re nothing but a sorry-ass drunk who has never stood for anything in his life but the drink in his belly, I’ll pretend you had a moment of complete stupidity. But let me tell you this, come near her, look at her, or even speak her name again, not anyone or anything will keep me from you. Got that?”

  “You come into this town and think you own it,” he slurred.

  Keefer shrugged, stood and dropped a few bills on the pockmarked bar. He started to move toward the door when he heard rustling and turned just in time to see Peterson throw a punch. Keefer caught the man’s fist into his palm, and as easy and smooth as freshly churned butter, pushed his chest and the drunken man fell back onto the bar stool. “You’re time of bullying is up, Peterson. You’re going to step on the wrong pair of boots and there won’t be any coming back from that mistake.”

  The man sat there, his mouth open and the stink of stale whiskey oozing from his body. Keefer almost felt sorry for him—almost. Alcohol had taken over every available brain cell and Keefer doubted the drunk had a clue what he was doing half the time. Didn't matter. Drunk or not, he couldn’t be allowed to hurt people.

  Getting in his truck, Keefer drove back to his cabin, ready for a cold shower, but he noticed that the light was on. He hadn’t left it on.

  Opening the door, he stepped in, looking around in the small space and then he saw her. Violet sat on the end of his bed, relaxed back on her hands, her booted feet crossed at the ankles. Her long hair flowed around her shoulders. When their gazes met, her lips slightly parted.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi.” He closed the door behind him.

  “I went looking for you but one of the hands said you had left earlier, so I wanted to come here and wait on you.”

  “I had an errand to run.” Hell, why not tell her the truth? “That’s not quite right. I found Peterson.”

  Her eyes widened. “You did? Because you heard that he showed up on the ranch?”

  He nodded. “I won’t be surprised if the bastard doesn’t get a visit from every Walters.”

  “Why, Keefer?”

  “What do you mean ‘why’? Men like Peterson can’t go around threatening women.” Especially one that I care for.

  “I hope you left him in one piece.”

  “He’s in one piece, missing some of the brass in his balls, but still, whole and capable of living another day to rot his liver and kill off more brain cells.” She stood up and made her way toward him, a nice gentle sway to her hips. My God he’d missed her. “Why are you here, Violet?”

  “To ask your forgiveness,” she said in a soft voice.

  “For what?” He shoved his hands into his front pockets to keep from touching her. Oh, he wanted to, but he was afraid one wrong move would send her out the door again.

  “For how I acted. You told me you cared and I overreacted.”

  “You just told the truth. I know that took a lot of guts to talk about what happened.” He hated that his voice sounded so weak, even to his own ears.

  “I didn’t tell the truth though, at least not about my feelings.” She rolled her tongue along her lips. They glistened in the dim light.

  “You didn’t? Sure seemed like a hefty amount of truth to me.” And he’d ben sulking because of it.

  “I’ve thought about every minute we’ve shared. Hell, that’s not the truth either. I’ve had you on my mind the second I walked into the restaurant and saw you. You’ve burrowed deep under my skin, cowboy, and have taken residence. I didn’t want this—I didn’t want any of it—but sometimes we have no control over what our heart wants. I’m still on a road of forgiveness, for myself and what I’ve done over the years, but I’m also on a road I never thought I deserved. You’re a bright light on this path. A beacon making everything brighter.”

  He swallowed, pulling his hands out of his pockets. “What are you saying?”

  “That I’ve missed you. If you don’t throw me out, I’d like to stay here tonight, with you.”

  Damn. Here she was offering paradise again. He couldn’t take the yo-yo effect any longer. He should tell her that he was leaving at the end of the week. He’d made his mind up that he’d pop up a tent on his land and do a lot of soul searching.

  “No answer? I guess that speaks for itself,” she said.

  “I need to go take a shower. I haven’t been home since I baled hay today.” Even knowing what he did, that she could pull away, he wanted to take her into his arms, but his own fear kept him steady.

  “Okay.” She sighed.

  He went into the bathroom, practically tore off his clothes, hearing seams rip and stepped into a stream of cold water. Once he was cooled to the bone, he switched the temperature to hot and stood there for a long time. Violet’s words were like a reel in his brain. He had r
eapplied some of the old chains and he wasn’t in any hurry to cut them off, not yet. He could walk out of the bathroom and she’d be gone. He had doubts when it came to their—their what?

  He heard a rustling sound and opened his eyes, looking through water dripping from his eyelashes into the face of the woman who had caused him so much alarm. Violet stood outside of the tub, naked. “Care for company?”

  He didn’t say a word. He just simply stepped back, giving her the room to join him in the standup shower. She stood under the spray, the water wetting her hair, dripping over her breasts and pert nipples. Then he knew he couldn’t find the desire any longer. “I’m going to touch you, sweetheart.”

  She smiled. “About time, cowboy.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her, softly, retracting himself. She stood on tiptoe, her kisses growing urgent as her hand slid up his chest until she cupped his cheeks. He could hear his breaths heavy in his ears, or maybe it was her breathing? He deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around her slender waist, holding her close, leaning his forehead against hers.

  “Violet.” His voice was strained, full of his internal emotion. “What in the hell are you doing to me?”

  “I’ve asked the same of myself. What are you doing to me I wonder,” she whispered.

  He took a deep breath, kissed her cheek, her chin and quickly on the lips. She smiled, a breathtakingly smile, and there she had him again, right where he couldn’t think logically. His legs grew weak. “I need to know, sweetheart. Do you trust me?”

  She drew back, her eyes filled with uncertainty. “In all honesty, eighty percent of me trusts you.”

  “Why not the other twenty percent?”

  “We should never trust anyone fully. We’re all humans and make mistakes.”

  He chuckled, couldn’t help himself, but it fizzled quickly. She could be quite ridiculous at times, but he also found her truthfulness refreshing. There was no room for lies between them. “I see your point, crazy as it is.” He also knew, without a doubt, she’d have to trust him fully if they ever hoped to have a future together.