Solitary Horseman

by Camp, Deborah

  “You fixing to bed down out here tonight, Banner?” He heard her soft gasp. Pivoting around, he watched her emerge from the shadows. She held two bottles with rubber teats stuck in them and she set them on top of a barrel as she passed by it. Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment.

  “I asked Mary if I could feed the orphan calves this evening before I headed for home.” She shrugged. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I didn’t know if I should show myself when I realized what you two were talking about.”

  “It’s getting late. You’d best be getting home.”

  She tipped her head to one side. “Do you believe him? Do you think he’ll end his affair with her?”

  He started to tell her to mind her own business, but her genuine concern changed his mind. “I believe him. He’s smart. He knows right from dead wrong.”

  “But if he’s in love . . ?”

  “Love makes a difference?” he asked, dubiously. “First of all, I don’t think he’s in love. I think he wants to be her hero. Ben’s always gone after gals who are downtrodden or needed help of some kind. Second, it doesn’t matter. Love her or not, he’ll get himself killed if he doesn’t quit her.”

  She sighed and moved closer, kicking at the straw and encouraging dust motes to dance in the orange-tinted air. “You’re not a teeny bit jealous?”

  He felt his eyebrows rise at her question. “Do I look or sound like I’m jealous?”

  Clasping her hands behind her back, she swayed slightly from side to side as she regarded him with her golden eyes, making him intensely aware of every inch of him that her gaze touched. “No, I suppose not. It’s hard to completely know the territory of a man’s heart, though.”

  “Same could be said for a woman’s heart. You ever jealous of Lilah for having a husband and being settled?”

  Her frown wrinkled her nose and made her eyes spark with affront. “Shoot, no. A husband, I could get if I wanted, and being married has nothing to do with being settled. Lilah is living proof of that.” She cast him a sly look. “Where’s this trapper’s cabin?”

  “Eastern edge of the ranch.” He angled her a look. “You making plans to go there sometime?”

  “Now why on God’s green earth would I want to go there? I just had never heard about it before, that’s all.”

  “Should be called the love shack. Ben isn’t the only one who has sported with a gal in it. My brothers used it quite often for romantic trysts.”

  “Oh? Never you, though.” She scraped her teeth over her lower lip and looked up at him in a way that caught the attention of his manly parts.

  “I didn’t say that. I admit I’ve been there with a girl a time or two. But not lately. Not for years, in fact.”

  Sunlight glided over her hair as she shifted from one boot to the other, and before his mind could catch up with his instincts, Callum reached out and wrapped his index finger around one of her auburn curls. Its softness against his calloused skin sent longing through him like a rushing river. She’d be like that all over – soft where he was hard, giving where he was not. He heard her gasp and his heart bucked. “I’d almost forgotten how silky . . .” He didn’t even know what he was saying anymore. He was mesmerized by the feel of her and the way her beautiful eyes glimmered, heated up, seared him.

  He brought his other hand up to cup the back of her head. It took only a flexing of his fingers to bring her body flush against his and a dip of his head to rub his lips against hers. He grew hard so fast that he groaned against her lips and she parted them on a sigh. Animalistic need thrust his tongue into the sweetness of her mouth. He heard her startled moan and answered with a stroke of his tongue on hers. Gathering her hair into his hand, he tilted her head so that he could get a better taste of her. He lifted his mouth only long enough to gather in another breath before sealing his lips to hers again.

  His whole body throbbed and strained with need. Sweet Jesus, it felt like ages since he’d had a woman in his arms. Her body molded to his and she matched him kiss for kiss. Her arms came around him and she stroked up and down his back. He wanted to tear off his shirt so that he could feel her skin on his skin.

  He wedged his hand between their bodies to cup her breast and discover the hard nub of her nipple under her blouse. Her breasts would be creamy and her nipples blushing pink, he thought with near delirium. God, he wanted to sip, lick, and tunnel into her.

  “Callum, stop,” she whispered against his lips and her hands were suddenly pressing against his chest. “We’re getting carried away here.” She shoved at him and stepped out of his embrace. Her breasts heaved with her open-mouthed breathing. She looked past him. “Anyone could see us!”

  He ran his thumb and forefinger across his damp lips and shifted his stance to ease the throbbing below his belt. The cold slap of reason straightened his jumbled thoughts and if he could have kicked himself, he would have . . . all the way to Dallas and back.

  “How do you feel about me?” she asked, her tone all smoky.

  “Feel about you?”

  She nodded.

  How in the hell was he supposed to answer that? “You have a good head on your shoulders and a lot of gumption.”

  “Oh.” A crease appeared between her eyes. “Well, thank you.”

  He could tell she was disappointed and why he couldn’t rightly sort out. Nothing he’d said was an insult. He knew women well enough to know that she wouldn’t want him to answer that question honestly. Telling her that he was hard as a block of wood and that she’d damn near stolen his breath and good sense from him would only earn him a slap in the face.

  Noticing that, at some point, his hat had fallen off and was lying at his feet, he collected it, ran a hand through his hair, and wedged it back onto his head.

  “We shouldn’t be kissing like that.” She stared at him for long moments as if waiting for him to say something, and then she shrugged. “About the town meeting your men were discussing at breakfast this morning . . .” Worry flitted across her face. “The way everyone was jabbering made me think of how men were talking before the war broke out.”

  His thoughts were still fuzzy around the edges and he wondered how she could kiss him like that one minute and expect him to discuss town goings-on in the next. He motioned for her to walk with him and they made their way toward her hitched wagon, giving him another minute to settle his thrumming pulses “Don’t fret about that.”

  She dug in her heels, making him stop and look back at her. “Answer me this: would you join a vigilante group?” The crease on her forehead was back.

  He shook his head once. “No.”

  Her expression softened with relief. “But that’s what some of the men are doing, isn’t it? I heard that three or four freed slaves were hung outside Gainesville. Is that true?”

  “I believe so, yes

  She shivered and crossed her arms as if she were protecting herself against a bitter wind. “And there’s some kind of party next weekend?”

  “Yes, that’s right.” He shifted from one foot to the other as his swollen member began to ease up. “Bull riding and barbecue.”

  “I’d like to go to that and hear and see for myself what’s brewing.” Her throat flexed as she swallowed nervously. “If you aren’t already going with someone, would you consider being my escort?”

  He felt his eyes widen as his thoughts sharpened to a keen point. Had she just up and asked him to take her to a party? The girl was brassy as could be sometimes. “Hollis won’t take you?”

  “Hollis won’t go. He doesn’t like to be where there are lots of people. It makes him nervous. But I want to know which way the wind is blowing. My eyes and ears were closed leading up to the war. Like a ninny, I thought if I didn’t know about what was coming my way, it would race on past me. I know better now. I won’t hide under the covers again like a scared child. Ignorance is for fools.”

  She made more sense than most of the men he knew and that was worrisome. Smart women had always been his weakness.
r />   “Will you escort me or not?”

  He looked down at his boots, shaking his head a little at the way she’d barked that question at him. Feisty little fox. “Sure, I’ll take you.” He flicked his gaze up to hers again. “Seeing as you asked me so sweetly and all.”

  She hitched up her chin. “Thank you.” She glanced toward the house. “Your pa won’t like it.”

  Callum looked over his shoulder to where his father sat on the porch like a hulking watchdog. “He doesn’t have to.” He gripped her elbow and guided her toward her vehicle. “You should go now. It’s getting late.”

  He held onto her arm as she climbed up into the wagon. Taking up the reins, she looked toward the house again and waved goodbye to his father. She wrinkled her nose before focusing on Callum. The setting sun created a halo over her hair. “He won’t even wave back. Some things aren’t meant to be, no matter how hard you try or how much you want it to be different.” Her clipped tone and the sadness in her eyes stabbed at him.

  He rested a hand on her wrist. “He’s been trying to walk up and down the steps every night. I help steady him.”

  “What?” A smile captured her lips as wonder filled her eyes.

  He rubbed his thumb against her threadbare cuff. “And every morning he walks the length of the porch twice before he settles in his chair. He told me not to talk to you about it, but I figure you deserve to know that you’ve gotten through to him.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Thank you.” He stepped back from the wagon, feeling that something else needed to be said. “About what happened just now . . . between us.”

  “You don’t have to—

  “You’re a good woman, Banner, and I know you’ll find yourself a good man.” He met her gaze and saw her smile dissolve. “That’s not me.”

  Her brows dipped. “What are you saying? That you aren’t interested in me in that way or that you’re not a good man?”

  He heaved a sigh. “You think I kiss a woman like that when I’m not interested?” He shook his head. “No. I’m not a bad man, but I left the best of me on the battlefields.” He turned away from her and strode back toward the stables. After a few steps, he heard her cluck softly at her horse and the sound of the wagon pulling away.

  Chapter 7

  The next morning Banner arrived at the Latimer ranch earlier than usual. The sun was just peeking over the horizon when she stopped the wagon out by the stables. Callum or one of the other ranch hands would unhitch Pansy later. She set the brake and climbed down, her joints feeling stiff. Hollis had experienced a particularly restless night, hollering in his sleep and waking her up. By the time she’d thrust her arms into her dressing gown and dashed out of her bedroom, Hollis had been pacing outside, running his hands through his hair and making it stand on end.

  “Hollis, it’s all right. Come back inside,” she’d said, keeping her voice calm and gentle although everything inside of her had been twitching.

  It had taken her a couple of hours to get him calm again. She’d wrapped him in a blanket and made him sit in the rocker while she brewed a pot of coffee. He’d drank a cup of it and stared at the floor, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears as he flinched every once in a while when some particularly horrible memory pierced his mind. She had curled up in the other rocking chair and dozed for an hour or two. When she’d awakened, Hollis seemed to have come back to himself. He had given her a hug and had gone out to hitch up the wagon for her and saddle his own horse, getting ready for the day ahead of them.

  She felt tired already as she trod across the dew-wet grass toward the house, but her steps faltered when she noticed that someone was sitting in one of the porch chairs. Was Mr. Latimer up already? Hurrying forward, she gasped a little when she saw that it wasn’t the elder Latimer, but his son who was slumped in the chair, fast asleep.

  ###

  The smoke cleared and all he could see were bodies. The first soldier he recognized was Private Thomas McCoy, a nineteen-year-old from Greensboro, Mississippi. He was missing an arm and a leg. He opened his cloudy blue eyes and his voice came out squeaky and full of pain.

  “How come I’m dead, sir? And you ain’t?”

  Callum came awake with a jolt that sent a spear of pain up his spine. Straightening slowly, he groaned, realizing that he wasn’t in bed, but was slumped in the front porch rocker. He had only a vague memory of how he got there. The nightmares. They’d been bad last night, chasing him from room to room until he’d shoved himself back into his works clothes and ended up here.

  Forcing his eyes open to slits, he stared at the lightening sky where only a few stars still shone. He lifted his arms above his head and was in the middle of a spine-cracking stretch when he spotted her.

  Banner sat on the porch step, leaning back against the bannister, a coffee cup cradled in her hands. She held it out to him.

  “Good morning, Callum. Want some?”

  For a few moments, he thought he might be dreaming, but then he caught the aroma of the coffee mixed with the scent of lavender and he knew he was awake.

  “What are you doing here? It’s too early.” His voice sounded like he had gravel in his throat.

  “Hollis had a bad night, too. I figured I’d get a jump on the day, since I was already awake.”

  He buttoned up his shirt before leaning forward to accept the cup of coffee from her. What she’d said fully lodged in his spongy brain. Hollis had a bad night, too. He took a sip of the coffee, needing it to clear away the vestiges of sleep.

  “Sometimes I dream of the war,” she said, her voice almost a whisper as she gazed up at the sky that was changing from dark to light blue. “I wake up in a cold sweat, my heart trying its best to beat its way out of my body. But my dreams aren’t like my brother’s – or yours, for that matter. When Hollis dreams, it’s like he’s in the clutches of a monster. He screams and his eyes go big and sightless. He walks the floor, moaning and groaning. I try to get through to him, but it usually takes a spell before he can even hear me.”

  A shiver licked up his spine and he took a long swallow of the hot coffee. He locked onto her profile, finding it more than pleasing. He liked the way the tip of her nose angled up ever so slightly and how her lower lip was full and lush while her upper one reminded him of an archer’s bow. He’d started off the night dreaming of her, but those steamy scenes had given way to the sound of gunfire and her moans of lovemaking had become the moans of dying men.

  “It’s like I tell Hollis. Horrible things shouldn’t be stuffed down deep in your soul. They need to be brought out into the light so that they can’t keep rising up out of the dark to torture you.”

  He took another gulp of coffee and it scalded the back of his throat. “How do you wrestle the damn things out into the light?”

  “By talking about them.”

  The shell around his heart hardened. He shook his head. “That won’t work.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just know. Women place too much importance on talking.”

  “Men are too bull-headed for their own good.”

  He ran a hand down his face as frustration began to simmer inside him. “Thanks for the coffee. We both have chores and talking won’t get them done.” He stood up and so did she. She grabbed him by the arm, startling him.

  “I’m not just good at talking, Callum. I’m also good at listening. You’ve tried your way – balling it all up inside – so why not try another way?” Her fingers slid down his arm, along the back of his hand, and then away as she preceded him into the house.

  He examined his arm and hand, almost expecting to see a smoking trail. Shaking off the ridiculous notion, he set the empty coffee cup onto the porch railing instead of taking it inside to the kitchen where she would be stoking the stove. He headed for the stables to unhitch her horse from the wagon. It was safer out there.

  ###

  The night before the barbecue Banner was up almost all night working on something to wear to it. She’
d found an old white curtain stuffed in the bottom of a chifforobe and cut it into strips, which she gathered into ruffles and attached three rows of them to the bottom of her blue dress. It had white ruffles down the bodice already, so the new ruffles gave it a more “fancy” look. She had enough of the material left over to make white cuffs for the dress since its cuffs were frayed and even torn in places.

  After ironing it and fluffing the new ruffles, she slipped into it and admired herself in her bedroom mirror. She put on her only good bonnet and wished she could remake it, too. Maybe she could pick some meadow flowers and braid them along the crown of it. She decided to give that a try. Just about anything would improve it, she thought with a defeated sigh. The dress, while attractive, didn’t look new, but she lifted her spirits by reminding herself that almost every woman in the county was doing with “old” because “new” was too expensive.

  Still, she was as nervous as a bride on her wedding night as Saturday dawned. Callum had given everyone the day off and had told her he’d ride over to her place around eleven and they’d go to the barbecue in her wagon. After breakfast, she’d taken a walk and picked a basket full of wild flowers. She sat on the porch and pinned some of gold and burgundy blooms in a sweeping design on one side of her old blue bonnet. Pansy munched on grass near the porch, her long white mane falling across her neck and into her eyes.

  “Pansy, you should look extra pretty today, too,” Banner said. Taking the basket with her, she approached the horse and braided the remaining flowers into Pansy’s mane. As she worked, her thoughts scampered to the searing pleasure of Callum’s mouth on hers. She had imagined that, if he ever took liberties with her, that he would be hesitant and gentle. “I couldn’t have been more wrong about that!” she muttered, only realizing she’d spoken aloud when Pansy nickered in response. She patted the horse and then sat on the porch again, staring straight ahead at nothing while she replayed that kiss – those passionate kisses that she’d never forget, that had redefined for her what kissing could be.