Western Winds

by Raine Cantrell

  “Looks like you lost your best gal or your pay to the men, Ragweed. I’ve got the time, if you want to talk.”

  “Ain’t got a best gal, Miz Lacey. It’s the races. I ain’t gonna be able to ride in ’em.”

  “The races?”

  “Independence Day in San Angela.”

  Bemused, Lacey shook her head. She had lost touch with not only what was happening around the Reina but with time. With all the wild hoopla the town could muster, the day would be celebrated for the Texans who had won independence from Mexico. There would be contests on just about everything, from how far a man could spit his tobacco juice to how long he could sit the meanest longhorn.

  “I still don’t understand why you can’t ride in them. I know the men had to draw lots to take turns to go, but you all understand that the herd can’t be left unprotected.”

  “I knowed that. An’ I ain’t complainin’. I jus’ got stuck with goin’ at night. Had myself set on winnin’ that prize money.”

  “Have you been gambling away more than your wages in those card games at night? I know how easy it is to get carried away by a big pot and filling an inside straight.”

  “You played cards with the men?”

  “When I could slip out from under Maggie’s watchful eye. And it, was Sy and Bo who taught me how.”

  “Ain’t that, Miz Lacey. Got my eye on a fancy saddle old man Willis has for sale. Said he took it in on trade from some drifter down on his luck.”

  “The man must have been. I’ve heard of a horse or a rifle going but not a handgun or saddle.”

  “That’s what Willis claimed. Wants a hundred dollars.”

  Lacey leaned against the railings, pulling off bits of dried bark. “Can’t you trade places with someone?” She was beginning to lose the tension that had filled her, for she had truly missed this sort of talk with any of the men.

  “Shouldn’t be botherin’ you with this. Already talked to Rafe. Said I had to take the breaks the way they came.” He jumped down and stopped when Lacey grabbed his arm.

  “He doesn’t have the final say!”

  “But he made it clear that you wasn’t to be bothered—”

  “I’m still an owner of the Reina!” Lacey hung on to her temper by a thread. This had to be the first step she took to reclaim what was hers. “I’ll ride that day for you. I didn’t plan on going to San Angela. So don’t think I’m doing this just for you.”

  “Can’t let you do that. Rafe’ll—”

  “Rafe can go to hell!” She wanted to shake him for mentioning his name again. Releasing his arm, Lacey stepped in front of him. “I hired you. I’m giving you an order. Me, Lacey G … Garrett.” She almost choked calling herself Garrett, but thankfully, Ragweed didn’t notice.

  “Sure, but—”

  “But nothing. The matter is settled. You ride with the other men in the morning.” She started to walk away, and half turned back. “Ragweed, you’d better win that race.”

  “Miz Lacey, that’s a promise! I’ve got a big, blanket-hipped Appaloosa from that last string I helped to break. He’s fast, too. Sure to beat anythin’ anyone puts up against him.”

  “Then I’ll expect to see you come riding home with that fancy saddle.”

  With a high leap Ragweed tossed his hat, caught it, and shouted a wild yell as he ran for the bunkhouse. Here he was feeling sorry for himself, and Miz Lacey, who a body couldn’t get near lately, made everything right for him.

  Lacey wished his joy was contagious, but weariness settled heavily on her shoulders as she slipped in the gate, praying she would avoid seeing Maggie. Luck was with her, but once in her own room she restlessly paced its confines. There was no way she could avoid thinking about Rafe.

  Painful as it was, Lacey knew there was some form of justice in having discovered his lies before she had married him.

  The thought did not bring much needed solace. He was sure to return, and she had to be ready to face him. From the depths of the bitterness she felt at his betrayal, she knew she had the weapons to defeat any demand he would make to give him a chance to explain. Rafe had told her how he went crazy when she showed him scorn or contempt.

  “And he means nothing to me,” she whispered, staring at her reflection in the mirror. “He never did … and now he never will.”

  Recapturing her authority tested her temper in the days that followed as she worked until she was exhausted. She refused to answer any questions about Rafe, refused to hear his name mentioned. Daily she rode out, culling the weak cows, the calves that were not fattening, or those that had been injured by wolves prowling the outskirts of the herd.

  Her sturdy little mustang that she had caught, broken, and trained herself could be seen all over the ranch, with a rigid Lacey in the saddle and Evan Darcy at her side.

  Maggie was beside herself. Lacey’s refusal to talk about what happened with Rafe left her feeling helpless. She had thought that Rafe loved Lacey, that the love they shared was the same enduring kind she had shared with her husband, Eric. Lacey was hurting, but she had outgrown the simple comfort Maggie could offer. The fine anger lines around Lacey’s mouth, the feral glitter in her eyes, and the whip-sharp tongue spoke of a woman’s pain. The pain a man had caused and only that man could heal.

  Maggie wasn’t alone in her feelings. Fletcher, standing with Bo in the shelter of the barn doors, watched Lacey ride past with Evan. He shook his head, spit out a wad of tobacco juice, and spoke to Bo.

  “Jus’ ’pears to me that understandin’ she had with Rafe to marry ain’t gonna happen. He up an’ disappeared, an’ I swear she’d just as soon kill him if he shows up.”

  “Nearly chewed my head off when I asked her yesterday if we should start lookin’ for him. My gut says there’s somethin’ wrong ‘bout his leavin’.”

  “I did the same. She give me this dark look an’ swore she didn’t give a hoot to hell where he was so long as he didn’t come back.”

  “Been near a week that he’s gone. Didn’t seem that he would jus’ take off. But maybe, jus’ maybe, it’s for the best that he’s gone.”

  Fletcher shook his head, then rubbed his jaw. “Can’t see as how you’d feel that way. She’s hurtin’, Bo. I just can’t figure where in tarnation he took off to like a damn chaparral cock.”

  “If he comes back and hurts her more, I’m gonna skin that thick-headed son of a bitch and use his hide to wipe my boots.”

  Fletcher was taken aback by the vehement tone of Bo’s voice, but before he could say anything, Bo pushed past him into the sunlit yard.

  “I’ll be damned,” Bo muttered as Fletcher joined him.

  Shading his eyes with his hand, Fletcher gazed at the rider looming close. He’d know that big grulla of Sy’s anywhere. Rafe had come home.

  As one their glances moved to where Lacey waved Evan off and stood leaning against the corral fence.

  “Seems we ain’t the only ones that spotted him,” Bo remarked. “An’ it looks like I won’t get a chance at his hide.”

  Lacey controlled the sudden harsh breaths she drew into tortured lungs. She fought down the impulse to run. Last night she had convinced herself that he had gone, for good this time. Only the hate that had time to fester held her rooted to where she stood.

  Rafe’s eyes seemed to bore into her as he came close enough for her to see the dark circles under his eyes. She had to remind herself that she could face him, face anything. She was strong enough to withstand the storm she sensed about to break. She had to be, or the choice would be for her to be the one to break, and that she would never do.

  He was clean shaven, his skin pale. Time receded for a moment, and Lacey swayed where she stood. What had happened to give his eyes that haunted look? She couldn’t ask. Her gaze drifted down, took note of the new shirt and pants. But once more she refused
to question him. He brought the horse abreast of her, and Lacey lifted her chin in a challenging manner, her gaze direct but empty of emotion.

  She could feel herself scream inside as he casually looped the reins over the pommel, his black eyes narrowed, holding hers as he leaned down. “Lacey, I—”

  “No. There’s nothing you can say that I want to hear.” His jaw tightened, the muscle in his cheek twitched, and still she refused to look away from him.

  The second passed, neither willing to give the other quarter. The breeze swept suddenly down from the mountains, sounding to Lacey like a wild wounded animal’s cry, very like the scream lodged in her throat. She bit her lip to keep it buried as he finally dismounted.

  “Fletcher,” he called, “grain him good. He’s had nothing but grass.” And to Lacey, “When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be waiting, princess.” Without a look back he walked away before he lost control of himself.

  Lacey sagged against the fence. Seeing him had been ten times easier and a hundred times worse than every nightmare. But he left her feeling he had won the hand without her ever seeing what cards were dealt. Her eyes tracked his moves toward the house and first noticed that he limped. Maggie came running from the doorway, but he brushed past her. Lacey involuntarily thought back to that day at the line shack. The gunshot … Had he been shot? She stifled the thought.

  Feeling anything but the cold rage she had wrapped herself in would open the wound again. She couldn’t survive a repeat of these last few days. But she had a right to know what he intended to do.

  Behind her Fletcher forced Bo to remain with him. Their words were angry, and Bo stomped off to the barn.

  Maggie glanced up from the dough she was kneading as Lacey came into the kitchen. “Where is he?”

  “Inside. He didn’t say much, Lacey.” She watched helplessly as Lacey went into the courtyard. “Lord, the fur’s gonna fly higher than a trapper’s coon dog.” With a wish that she dared to interfere between the two of them, Maggie punched down the dough with a vengeance.

  The greenery and flowers in the courtyard mocked Lacey as she strode past without a glance. The echoing sound of her boots resounded emptily against the mud-brick tiles, reflecting the hollow feeling she had inside her.

  The impulse to confront Rafe before he began challenging her orders directed her to his room. It came as no surprise to find him standing right inside the doorway as she abruptly entered. What did surprise her was his firm, biting grip on her arm as he pulled her farther inside and then slammed the door closed.

  “It took you long enough to follow me,” he growled by way of a greeting. “And hold back that tongue lashing you’re itching to let fly. I’m in no damn mood to hear it.”

  “As sure as hell is coming, I don’t care what you’re in the mood for!” She yanked her arm free and rubbed it.

  “You’ll first listen to what I have to say. I didn’t spend those nights with April. I didn’t—”

  “Shut up! If your conscience is bothering you, go see a priest for confession. I won’t hear any more of your cold-blooded lies.”

  Rafe spun her around, leashing his temper. He forced her chin up so he could look into her eyes. Lacey defeated him by closing them. He fought down the desire to kiss her into submission, but knew he could not let her control this confrontation.

  “You don’t want to hear anything. Fine. I have no intention of explaining exactly what happened. You wouldn’t believe me. But you’re wrong … dead wrong.”

  Her body shook with a tremor, whether from her anger or his nearness, she didn’t know. She stepped back and he let her go.

  “What do you intend to do now, Rafe?”

  “Intend? What the hell is that supposed to mean? I swear you’re not making sense. Everything goes on just the way it’s been.”

  “No.”

  “Nothing’s changed!”

  “It already has!” she yelled back, forgetting every vow to be calm.

  “You stubborn witch. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” He drew in a harsh breath and released it. “Lacey, you’re mine. My woman, remember that. No matter what you believe, what you think, nothing will ever change that.”

  “Woman,” she snarled. “Fool is what you mean.”

  Rafe had had enough. He grabbed her. “I’ll keep you here until you admit you’re mine.”

  “No!” She shoved against him, and all the rage bottled inside exploded. Like a fury she attacked him. Clawing and kicking, wildly twisting against his hold, Lacey tried to fight her way free.

  But Rafe used his strength, kicking her feet out from under her and taking her down to the floor. He pressed his heavier weight on her body, letting her spend herself in a futile effort, willing her rage to end.

  Lacey weakly turned her head aside. She couldn’t even draw one calming breath. His body was molded to hers like a second skin. She shuddered, shocked at the warmth shimmering through her, an insidious heat that came to life in response to his body pressing hers.

  There was no way to disguise his flesh, hard and hot against her. The desire she felt was mirrored in his eyes.

  “I want you,” he murmured, as if echoing her thought.

  Lacey tensed and refused to answer.

  His lips moved over the wild tumble of her hair, brushed her cheek, and settled on the corner of her mouth. “I could easily make you want me, bright eyes.”

  She bit her lip, jerking her head away.

  Rafe lowered his mouth to her bared throat and then whispered, “I told you there would be no going back.” He could feel her shake beneath him and despaired of breaking the wall she had erected. Forcing her fingers to entwine with his, he raised her hands to lie flat on either side of her head. “You can lie to me with words, but you can’t make your body lie.”

  He shifted his grip to hold both her hands with one of his and levered his body to the side. There was grim satisfaction in seeing her fight the desire that was beginning to consume her. Stroking her side, he cupped her breast, his thumb rasping over the already hardening nipple.

  “You want me,” he grated, and when she still refused to answer, he pulled the shirt free of her pants, sliding his hand beneath it.

  Lacey was forced to look at him then. There was a savage glitter in his eyes, and she knew until she spoke he would go on torturing her.

  “Yes! But you weren’t the first man I wanted. Only the man that showed me I could want someone else. Maybe three times will prove lucky for me!”

  He watched the rage and the pain flicker in her eyes. “I could make you want only me, but if I did, you’d never forgive me, would you? I don’t want war in our marriage.”

  “There isn’t going to be any marriage.”

  “I warned you not to make childish threats that would back you into a corner, bright eyes.”

  Lacey summoned the last reserves of her strength and anger. “And I warned you that you would be risking your life. Whatever was between us is dead. Leave it buried.” She stared at him, eyes cold, her voice flat. “There will never be any marriage between us.”

  He moved over her powerfully, letting her know the force of his body. “You’re mine. No man will ever have you unless he’s willing to lose his life. You believe you hate me. Hate’s akin to love, Lacey. It’s a lesson you need to learn.”

  Rafe let her go, rolled to his feet, and was out of the room before Lacey realized that she was free. She lay on the floor, fighting the shudders that came over her in waves. Her body still held his heat and hardness, an imprint that would never fully leave her. She didn’t know if she wanted to scream or cry. How could she fight him? Hating him was destroying her, but she couldn’t run. There was no place to go.

  Chapter 16

  Visibly shaken, Rafe stood in the courtyard. He knew he should ride out and away from her, but
his steps led him to the office. He wanted a drink. No, he wanted a bottle. Maybe then the raw ache inside him would cease tearing him apart. He slammed the door closed behind him. Taking a glass from the sideboard, he held it high before venting his rage and throwing it at the fireplace.

  He grabbed a bottle and took a long swallow, his eyes targeted on the glittering shards of glass. The liquor burned as it went down his throat. But something had to warm the cold knot of fear in his belly. He was going to lose it all; Lacey, the Reina, and the money.

  He had left April convinced that it was sheer chance she had come to the line shack that day. But short of killing her, she refused to tell him how she knew about him making love to Lacey in the open field. Someone had seen them, that was clear enough. But who?

  Holding the bottle aloft, he knew he shouldn’t give Lacey time to marshal strength to rebuild her walls. Two more long swallows fired his own stubborn pride.

  He wasn’t going to beg. Never would he beg her.

  It was nearly three hours later that Lacey stood outside the office. She heard Rafe stumble against the furniture, swearing softly in Spanish. The thought of confronting Rafe, drunk and furious, made her hesitate. She should leave him to drink himself into a stupor and pass out.

  Maggie took the decision out of her hands. She came bearing down on Lacey with a covered tray, her mouth set in a grim line, her eyes flashing determination.

  “This has gone on long enough, Lacey. Let me by. If you don’t care what he’s doin’ to himself, I do.”

  “This is between us, Maggie. Don’t interfere.”

  “Someone has got to. You’ve been ridin’ roughshod over all of us this past week. He got himself hurt somehow, and I aim to find out.”