He had to stop four times and sit for a spell under a tree to keep from passing out. Any other time, he would have run into one of the other cowhands, but not today. Not when he would be eternally grateful to see one. It was good and dark when he finally saw the lights of his house in the distance. That was when he heard a horse – more than one horse – heading his way. He sighed. Yeah, they’d been watching for him.
Shane and Ben appeared out of the gloom, their faces set in lines of worry.
“Where in the hell have you been?” Ben barked. “Hollis and Franklin are out looking for you. The others went into town to see if you were there.”
“Who’s that?” Shane asked, spotting the draped figure. “What happened? Is he—?”
“Jeb Johnson and, yes, he’s dead. I killed him.” Callum tried to sit up straight, but couldn’t. He slid off the back of Butter and almost landed on his own butt, but kept himself upright by the grace of God. “He nicked me.” To prove it, Callum gripped one side of his coat and flung it open to reveal his soaked shirt.
“Nicked?” Shane squeaked. “Man, you’re bleeding bad!”
Ben muttered something foul in Comanche and was beside Callum in an instant. He grabbed Callum’s right wrist and guided his arm around his shoulders, steadying him as they walked jerkily to Ben’s horse. “Get up there, Cal. Can you stay in the saddle? I’ll ride back with Shane.”
“’Course I can stay in the damned saddle,” Callum groused, irritated at being treated like an invalid. He used what strength he had left to lift himself onto the horse. He didn’t remember riding the rest of the way to the house. Somehow, he arrived there. People fussed around him and he was grateful when a soft, feather mattress enveloped him.
Banner’s face swam into view and he frowned. Why was she still here? Should be home. Safe. At home.
Then he closed his eyes and fell into black oblivion.
When he opened them again, sunlight stabbed at his pupils and he winced, slamming his eyes closed again.
“Callum?”
A soft voice caressed his ear and the delicate touch of fingertips soothed over his brow. He pried open one eye, then the other to get a better look at Banner. He could gaze upon her all day, every day. Her mahogany hair spilled over her shoulders and her tiger eyes shone with concern and relief.
He tried to speak and a garbled sound emerged. He had to swallow, clear his throat, and try again. “Is it morning?”
“Yes. How do you feel?”
“Like I was shot.”
She smiled. “And so you were. You might have a headache and you’re going to feel weak for a few days because you lost a lot of blood. The bullet that plowed into you made quite a mess.”
“I lived, though.”
“Yes, it appears so.” She glanced over her shoulder and then back at him. “The sheriff is here. Can you speak with him?”
He nodded, and she stepped away, allowing Sheriff Jacoby and a tall man in a Texas Ranger get-up to approach the bed. The sheriff stroked his long, white mustache as he took measure of Callum.
He jerked his head in the direction of the other man. “This here is Bill Falcon. He’s one of the Rangers looking into the night riders and such.”
Falcon nodded at Callum. “I believe you sent a telegram asking the Texas Rangers for assistance.”
“I did.” Callum glanced at the sheriff’s surprised expression and started to shrug, but thought better of it when his shoulder screamed in pain. He winced and tried to be still. “Glad you came. It’s getting wild around here. Dangerous for everyone.”
“I need to hear about what happened to you and Johnson in your own words.” Sheriff Jacoby removed a pad of paper and a lead pencil from his shirt pocket.
Callum drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting his mind transport him back to the hunter’s shack. “I was at the Pitchfork Hills on the northeast part of Payne land. I hadn’t scouted out that far before and I was curious about any water sources that could be there. I found a trail that had been used by cattle and I followed it around to a shack surrounded by rocky outcroppings. A natural kind of corral. I figured that it might have been used to hide cattle that had been stolen from Payne land over the past year or so.”
“Miss Payne told me she was missing cattle,” Sheriff Jacoby said. “I looked into it, but I didn’t get anywhere.”
“I figured the thieves were Jeb Johnson and maybe Russell Baines, but I couldn’t figure out what they were doing with the cattle. Now I think they put them in that corral for a few days until people stopped looking for them, then they moved them out at night and sold them to some no-good, thieving cattle broker.”
“Who fired first?” Falcon asked.
“He did. It was an ambush and not the first one. A few weeks ago, someone tried to shoot my head off my shoulders. Missed by a hair. Today, though, Johnson winged me. I got a shot off and it went true.”
“He used to work for Miss Payne?” Falcon asked.
“Yes, and I fired him. He didn’t take kindly to it, especially when I called him a low-life thief.” Even though it hurt like a sonofabitch, Callum pushed himself up to a sitting position. That was better, but now his shoulder screamed with pain that wouldn’t ease up. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t riding with that vigilante group either.”
“I just had a talk with Miss Payne about her run-in with the livery stable owner.” The Ranger glanced up at the ceiling and snapped his fingers. “Bransetter, wasn’t it? The sheriff gave me a few names of men he thinks could be riding with that group. Bransetter is one of them. Your cousin Eller is on the list, too. He ever told you he sided with them?”
Callum slid his gaze over to the sheriff, who appeared to be a little sheepish and refused to look him square in the eyes. He didn’t like that the sheriff had put Eller on that list, but he couldn’t fault him for it either. “He’s like a lot of folks in these parts. Bitter and fuming for a fight.” Callum shifted, trying to find a position where his shoulder wasn’t as painful.
“You assaulted Bransetter in his place of business?” Falcon asked, but it wasn’t actually a question. More like a statement of fact.
“That’s right,” Callum said, feeling no remorse. “He had it coming.”
“That’s not how he’s telling it,” Sheriff Jacoby said. “He says you stormed into his business with no explanation and tried to beat him to death.”
“If I’d wanted him dead, he’d be in the ground by now,” Callum drawled, tiring of this game of half-truths and out-and-out lies. “He insulted Miss Payne – grossly insulted her – and I let him know that I wouldn’t tolerate it. Then or ever. He got the point.”
“I understand that men are playing fast and loose with the law in these parts,” Falcon said with a smile that was cool and direct. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and young. Probably in his mid-twenties. But there was a maturity about him. Callum figured he was a straight shooter and could move as quick as a snake. “The trick is not to add to the trouble by becoming like those you’re trying to bring to heel. The Rangers are here now, Mr. Latimer. You need to back off and let us handle the wrong-doers.”
Callum ran a hand through the tangles in his hair. His shoulder and part of his chest were swaddled in white strips of cloth, neatly and securely tied in place. Banner Payne’s handiwork, no doubt. “I’ll be glad to allow the law to take over. All I want is to work my cattle and be left in peace. As long as people keep a civil tongue in their heads and their thieving hands off my herd, I have no problem with anyone.”
Falcon nodded and then a slight smile tipped up the corners of his mouth as he shifted from one boot to the other. “You don’t remember, but I served briefly under you at the tail end of the war at Morrisville Station. It was an honor to ride with you, sir.”
The horrors, the courageous acts, and the final blows of surrender washed over him in a tidal wave that never ceased to crush his insides. He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting off the barrage of emotions, and swal
lowed the sour taste of defeat that coated his mouth and throat. Forcing himself to shake off the claustrophobic feelings, he forced words past his wooden lips, “Then you fought valiantly. Everyone there did.”
“You were a Lieutenant Colonel in the Cavalry, weren’t you, Latimer?” Sheriff Jacoby asked.
“He was,” Falcon answered for him. “One of the finest soldiers in the Confederacy. When I was told to join up with his regiment, it was a proud moment for me. We all sensed that the South was days away from a final surrender, so I was proud to end it fighting with the best of the best.”
Callum rubbed his aching forehead. “By that time, I believe the best that could be said about us was that we were stubbornly surviving. Every damn morning, I was shocked to shit that I was awake and breathing.”
Falcon and Jacoby shared a spate of nervous laughter, then shuffled their feet, and muttered their goodbyes and wishes for his speedy recovery. He waved them off, all desire to appear cordial and unbent by his injury sapped away by the memories of war and the bitterness of loss. He slid lower into the bed and turned onto his side, onto the shoulder that wasn’t burning like hellfire, and sank into the familiar gloom of depression. It surrounded him, gathered him close, and whispered ugly words in his ear.
“Callum?”
A coolness stroked over his bristled cheek and his name, spoken like a sweet requiem, stirred the darkness swirling in his head and heart and soul.
“Callum.”
His name, like a breeze blowing through fog, separating it, letting in the light. He opened his eyes and drank her in. Banner. So aptly named. Symbolic of courage and devotion, of pride and honor. Her touch on his face was purer than raindrops, warmer than sunshine.
“I want you to drink this down. Mary ground up some herbs. They’ll dull your pain.” She held a glass of milky liquid. “Please? Can you sit up for a minute?”
The darkness of despair was sucked back into its hole and his heart expanded, his lungs billowed with new breath. He propped himself up and drank the concoction that tasted faintly of grass, mint, and chalk. When he handed the empty glass back to her, she took it, and with her free hand, combed back his hair from his forehead. Her tender smile squeezed his heart.
“Sleep now,” she said, almost in a whisper. “Tomorrow I imagine we’ll all be wishing we could keep you from your work and we’ll all know we can’t.”
“Banner.” Just saying her name eased him.
“Yes?”
“Kiss me.” A request. Simple. Springing from his heart.
She smiled and leaned close. Her lips touched his. Lifted. Pressed again, opening slightly this time, lingering a few moments longer before she straightened away from him.
“There.” She pulled the sheet up higher onto his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He was asleep before she left the room.
Chapter 18
“It’s damn dangerous around here,” Seth Latimer said, glaring at each man around the breakfast table. “Just because Johnson is dead don’t mean we can breathe easy. Not with the vigilante riders scaring the bejesus out of everyone.”
“Have they been back to Ki and Mary’s place?” Franklin asked, after he’d swallowed a mouthful of beefsteak.
“No, but they aren’t taking chances either. They’re holding night watches at their place. Same as we’re doing with the herd.” Seth nodded when Banner offered to fill his cup again. “You need to stay here another today, Callum. Give yourself more time to heal.”
“I’ll see to the herd for a few hours.” He held up a hand to stop the protests and complaints that were coming his way. “I’ll take it easy. There’s nothing to keep me out of the saddle.”
“Except loss of blood,” Banner said, giving him an arched look. “Your pa is right. Allow your body to recuperate.”
“I rested yesterday.”
“Stop being so hard-headed, Callum James Latimer. Be sensible.” She realized that she’d spoken to him like a nagging wife and the weight of the considering stares around the table brought hot color to her neck and cheeks. Turning swiftly, she left the dining room and escaped into the kitchen. She set the coffee pot back onto the stove and released a shaky breath.
Night before last when he’d staggered in, held up by Ben, his shirt soaked in blood, she’d run to him, not caring that tears filled her eyes and slipped down her face or that she barked orders to the others in a voice trembling with fear and concern and – yes, love.
She loved him. She knew it. The thought of losing him had shaken her to her very soul. Why, the highpoints in her daily life were all about him. Seeing him. Touching him. Talking with him. Listening to the sexy rumble of his voice. It had been so for a long while now. Her life had been divided into the hours without Callum and the lovely hours with him. Sometimes she didn’t even get hours – just minutes as he arrived at the house only shortly before she was heading home. She despaired on those days; her only respite being dreams of him at night.
“You going to stay in here and pout?”
She gulped down a gasp of alarm and spun around to find Callum behind her. A lopsided grin graced his wide mouth and his eyes danced with deviltry. She looked down at where her hand had flown up to cover her jumping heart and then back up at him.
“I’m not pouting, but I am vexed at you.”
“Vexed?” His grin grew and he stepped closer, pausing for a moment to glance over his shoulder, checking to be sure no one was still in the dining room. The men had all left and Seth was probably in the front parlor or his bedroom. Callum braced his hands against the counter behind her, his arms caging her. “Vexed?” he repeated, keeping his voice pitched low. “Sure you don’t mean smitten?”
She rested a tentative hand on the shoulder she’d bandaged, feeling the edge of it beneath his shirt. “Maybe a little smitten.” She raised her gaze to his. “Stay here today, Callum. With me.”
He regarded her with an intensity that made her heart leap. “And what would we do if I did stay? Hmmm?”
She bit her lower lip to keep from smiling mischievously at him. “You could help me clean up the breakfast dishes and then build a fire outside so I can heat water for a load of wash.” She tried to smother her giggle at his look of disappointment. “Does that tempt you?”
“Not in the least.” He leaned in closer until his lips were poised near hers. “But you do.”
Banner’s bones softened as his mouth claimed hers. She opened to him. The slide of his tongue on hers was still new and oh so carnal. He lifted his lips, moved his head a fraction, and then settled his mouth on hers again, tasting and tantalizing. His hands skimmed up her arms and he caressed her neck and throat. He nipped at her lower lip as if he wanted to gobble her up and blasted every thought from her mind while he awakened every pulse point in her body. She forgot where she was, what had just been said, and that she was raised a proper lady. Her heart melted and pooled between her legs. She had a moment of insanity, thinking she’d wrap her legs around him and arch against him because she simply couldn’t get close enough.
He whispered in her ear, “If I stay, I’m taking you to bed. And I don’t give a damn who knows it. It’s up to you, Banner. Should I stay or should I go?”
Sinful delight skittered up her spine. She opened her eyes and remembered she was in the kitchen. The Latimer kitchen. She couldn’t do this . . . couldn’t let him bed her with his father in the next room! She’d gained Seth Latimer’s respect and such an action would blow that to smithereens and confirm what he’d originally thought of her – that she was trash. Maybe even Callum would think less of her, too, once his ardor had cooled.
She shook her head while the rest of her body burned for him. “Go, but do be careful. You don’t have your full strength. You’ll tire quickly.”
He smiled crookedly at her as he allowed his fingertips to drift from her neck down the front of her dress and directly over her diamond-hard nipples. His gaze flicked to hers, lasciviously. “Doesn’t feel
like I’d tire quickly. Feels like I’d last for hours.”
She pursed her lips and shook her head at him, silently chiding him for his naughty insinuation. He gave an indolent shrug and stepped away.
“I have my marching orders then.” He touched two fingers to his forehead in a jaunty salute. “I’ll see you later, Miss Payne.”
“That you will, Mister Latimer.”
He chuckled, gave her a wink, and then strode from the kitchen. Banner hugged herself, holding tight to the remnants of hot desire that had seized her. She was proud of herself for resisting him because, God knew, it had taken every shred of her will power! Saying no to Callum Latimer was testing her endurance and she wasn’t at all certain she could endure much more before giving in to the power he wielded over her.
She had never wanted a man as she wanted Callum. Yes, she’d been attracted to a few men, but never to the point of utter surrender! This must be a part of being in love. Being in love, wanting to be loved in return, making love. It all went hand-in-hand, heart-in-heart. Did Callum feel it, too? Did he love her or just want her?
That, in essence, was how she was able to deny him. Until she was certain he was in love with her, could return her love, then they couldn’t make love together.
###
It would seem that he wasn’t quite up to snuff, Callum allowed as the whole left side of his body began to throb with each jarring step Butter took. It wasn’t long before the landscape around him undulated as even his eyeballs pulsed with pain. He reined Butter to a stop and waited for the discomfort to subside enough to allow him to continue rounding up stragglers.
He hated to admit that Banner was right, but he probably should head for home and bed rest. He’d felt good earlier, but fatigue and pain were working together to defeat him. Behind his eyelids, an image of Banner’s light brown eyes and luscious lips sent a new kind of weakness through him. Good Lord, he was roped and tied by the girl! The mere sound of her voice could make his body harden and his heart go soft.
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