Cowboy Come Home

by Janette Kenny

  “Feel any better?” he asked as he toted the bucket inside and found a crock that would hold the water.

  “So tired,” she said, her voice weary.

  “That’s to be expected.”

  He carried the crock outside and upended it to give the bottom a good pounding. Last thing he wanted to do was dump their precious water into a crock that could just as easily be home to a rattler.

  Nothing fell out but dust and the finest bit of chaff off grain.

  He took it back inside and carefully poured most of the water into the crock. “This will have to do for cooling you down. Ain’t the cleanest, but you’re covered in grit anyway.”

  That earned him a fleeting grin. He returned it, but she didn’t see. Just as well. Her chest was still rising and falling too quickly, and her face was still pink.

  He took the dried bandana off her chest and doused it in water. A whiff of her scent rose from the wet cloth, mingling with the smell of his sweat.

  It stirred to life the memory that was never far from his mind. Of the two of them back in that hayloft, arms and legs entwined and bodies writhing as one.

  Dammit, he shouldn’t be thinking about sex now. But seeing her lying there tempted him to claim what he’d been denied the past six months.

  The wet bandana had plastered her chemise to her bosom and rendered it nigh on transparent. Not that he needed to see her naked to remember that the tips of her breasts were the color of a ripe peach. That her nipples would bud under his thumb and forefinger or his tongue.

  That her skin smelled of roses and tasted like honey, warm and sweet and smooth.

  That despite his desire for revenge and big talk, he was hard with wanting her in his arms again.

  “This will be a shock,” he said.

  He squeezed a little water from the bandana then plopped it on her chest. She sucked in a sharp breath, her back arching, small hands clamping onto his wrists so hard he knew her nails scored half-moons on his skin.

  Just as quickly she relaxed; her hands slipped off his to fall in her lap. “Mmm.”

  “Rest.” He doused her handkerchief in the pail, wrung it out, and laid the cool folded cloth back on her forehead. “I’ll be back as soon as I tend to the horses.”

  She didn’t reply, but he hadn’t expected her to. He grabbed the pail and headed back out into the blistering heat, unnerved by the new emotions playing hell inside him.

  He managed to pump another pail of water before the well played out. Just as well because he was about spent too.

  Today seemed a helluva lot hotter to him. He was sweating like hell, but it evaporated long before it could cool him down.

  Thank God the adobe was still standing. Otherwise they’d be huddled with the horses under the thin shade of the old mesquite.

  After he filled their canteens, he carried the pail into the pen and poured the rest of the water into the small trough. It’d be enough to see the horses through the rest of the day, and what they didn’t use in the adobe would give the animals a drink before they headed out in the morning.

  Morning. Damned, they’d have to spend the night together in the adobe. Just the two of them with her half dressed.

  “If this ain’t one helluva fix,” he said.

  His gelding whickering softly, as if agreeing. Daisy’s mare tossed her head once, as if moving away from the few long bean pods was too damned much to ask.

  Trey kicked at the baked ground, cussing roundly that there was little for the horses to eat except leaves and mesquite pods. He hated leaving them here where they could pick up a damned thorn. Hated that he’d tarried too long with Daisy, his thoughts centered on getting his hands on a land title instead of on getting the hell out of here when they could.

  Now they’d be obliged to wait until she was fit to ride. He could hope that would be tonight, but he wasn’t going to bet on it.

  He squinted at the hazy horizon. Nothing out there. At least nothing he could see. But he knew this land. He knew there were plenty of arroyos and draws a person could hide in. Was Ned out there watching? Had he moved on?

  Trey suspected the latter. Torching the JDB was nothing more than revenge against Daisy. He’d already conned her out of countless head of cattle. Nothing was left for Ned to gain.

  It made his own quest for vengeance seem small and mean. Hell, what was the point now?

  She’d lost damned near everything. Because he’d trusted Barton, he’d lost all the money he’d saved back.

  For once he and Daisy were in the same fix. They needed each other to survive.

  Considering who she was and what they’d done, it was damned near a given that he couldn’t leave her. He’d surely sever all ties forever with Dade if he didn’t make things right by Daisy. But hadn’t he done that already?

  Nope, whatever happened here had to be because he and Daisy wanted it. Nobody else mattered. Not Barton. Not Dade. Not any law.

  They’d have to find a way to make this work. For now he’d mull on it. When they got back to the Circle 46, he’d have a long talk with her.

  He trudged from the pen and up the slope to the adobe, anxious to get back to it. Back to Daisy. No sense denying it.

  The sun pounded his back as if trying to fry his skin through his clothes. He wouldn’t be surprised if it could.

  Inside the adobe, Daisy hadn’t moved from when he’d left her. But her eyes were mostly open now. Open and wary.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  Her small hands fluttered over her belly, as if unsure what to shield from his eyes. “Some. My head still hurts.”

  “It will for a while. Need to get water in you now.”

  “I’m parched.” She grasped the canteen he handed her and took a greedy drink.

  He pulled the canteen away from her mouth. “Just sip at it. You drink too much and it’ll come right back up.”

  She nodded and did as he said, then passed the canteen to him. He too wanted to guzzle it, but he went slow, letting the water trickle down his parched throat. A man appreciated water more this way.

  “How are the horses?” she asked.

  “I put them in the pen where we’d kept the bull,” he said and cracked a smile. “That old mesquite doesn’t cast much shade, but it beats standing out in a full sun.”

  A smile trembled on her mouth. “When it was hot, that bull wouldn’t move away from that tree.”

  Food, water, and shade. Creature comforts.

  He took the dry cloth from her forehead and noted the worst of the red was fading now. “Still hot?”

  “Inside and out.”

  “It’ll take a bit to get the heat out of you.”

  He went through the ritual of soaking her handkerchief and his bandana again, staring at his hands instead of her lying there in barely anything. She had no idea just how inviting she was to him.

  “Tell me about Dade,” she said.

  He wrung the cloths out and frowned, thinking it was mighty strange for her to be asking him about her brother. But then he’d known Dade far longer and had been as close to him as any blood kin could be. Closer as far as Trey was concerned.

  “What do you want to know?” he asked as he draped the bandana over her chest then laid the other on her forehead.

  Her eyelids fluttered shut on a sigh. She didn’t say anything for so long he thought she’d dozed off.

  “What kind of man is he?” she asked.

  He grabbed his bedroll and knelt in the corner to lay it out, giving him time to pull his thoughts of Dade together. “He’s a good man. Reckon a good bit of that came from Kirby taking us in and teaching us right from wrong.”

  A good deal came from Dade’s disgust over his old man being an outlaw. He’d always cringe when news of the Logan Gang reached the ranch.

  “I’m glad,” she said.

  So was he, though he hadn’t always been that way.

  He’d been mighty jealous that Dade and Reid had a tie to family. Didn’t matter that their f
amilies weren’t worth two hoops in hell. They knew who they were.

  They knew their damned names.

  Trey shook off the old resentment that had dogged him most of his life and settled back on the bedroll, drawing one bent leg up and hanging his wrist over his knee.

  It felt good to rest his back against the cool adobe walls. Felt good to relax here with Daisy, sharing sparse talk. Sharing the same air.

  It had taken a whole year for him to feel that kind of contentment on the Crown Seven. He’d always been expecting to get tossed out on his ear. For the whole dream of having a makeshift family to fall apart on him.

  Damned if it didn’t happen when he least expected it.

  “I suppose he’s a rancher too,” she said, breaking the silence.

  “That’s what we were growing up, but Dade always talked about having a farm. Maybe run a few head of cattle too.”

  She wrinkled her pert nose. “A sodbuster.”

  “You sound like Barton.”

  “That’s all I know,” she said. “All I remember.”

  They’d never talked much before, but then the stolen moments they’d had were spent in each other’s arms. Yep, they hadn’t talked much at all, at least not about things that mattered.

  “What about you, Daisy? Are you going to keep both ranches?”

  Her deep sigh filled the silence. “I don’t know if I can.”

  An honest answer and one he admired her for making. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

  Her eyes popped open at that, wide and searching his across the room. “Who’s going to stand by me? Dade? Because if you’re insinuating that he’ll come in and take over for me ...”

  “I didn’t mean that at all.” Damn, he was handling this badly again.

  He shifted on the bedroll, feeling suddenly big and clumsy and unsure of himself around her. “Dade can’t take over anything unless you let him.”

  “But he’ll try.”

  He bit off a curse and got to his feet. “Both ranches are yours, Daisy. You can do whatever the hell you want with them. Sell out. Hire a foreman to manage for you.” His gaze caught and held hers. “You could marry and work with your husband to run both spreads.”

  She sat up a bit straighter in the chair, the handkerchief and bandana falling into her lap. “You want to buy the Circle 46. Is that it?”

  He shifted from one foot to the other. “It’s no secret I want the land. But I want you too.”

  “Are you angling to marry me because you want to get your hands on the land?” Her eyes bored into his, as if searching his soul. “Or do you love me?”

  He sure couldn’t admit to the first without looking like a money-grubber. And he damned sure wouldn’t lie about the second.

  “We were good together, Daisy.”

  She jerked her head away like he’d insulted her and crossed her arms over her breasts. Dammit, he couldn’t understand how her mind worked.

  “That’s not the same as love,” she said.

  No, it wasn’t. But it was the best he could give her. The best he could give anyone.

  He took the discarded bandana and handkerchief and wet them again. She curled back against the chair, eyes closed. Shutting him out.

  He felt the distancing as sharply as when he’d been laid up in El Paso. Without a word, he draped the cooling cloths on her then strode over to his saddlebags.

  “I’ve got a can of beans and one of tomatoes. Not much in the way of dinner—”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You should eat something.”

  She didn’t answer. Fine.

  He’d fill his own void and settle in for the night. But the food didn’t sit well in his gut and neither did the silence pulsing in the adobe.

  It promised to be a damned long night.

  Daisy laid her hands on her stomach and suffered through another cramp. Her body was wrapped in pain, her insides twisting.

  There is nothing we can do to stop it, Ramona had told her.

  She was losing the baby. The fall had been too much.

  Silent tears streamed down her cheeks and the pain ... Oh, God, she ached for the loss. For the death of the one thing that still tied her to Trey.

  Gone. All gone.

  “Daisy! What’s wrong?”

  “It hurts,” she said, caught between dream and reality since he’d not come before. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he said and gently pulled her against him.

  She fit against him so well. Her palms splayed on his chest, so muscular and bare. Just like she remembered from the time in the hayloft. Just them together. Only they lost the baby.

  The tears fell faster now, even though the cramping in her stomach had eased.

  “Daisy, wake up!”

  She did with a start and blinked, confused to see Trey here before she realized she’d confused her nightmare with reality. She’d relived the agony of losing her baby too many times, but this time she wasn’t imagining his arms around her. Holding her. Comforting her. He was really here.

  My God, had she talked in her sleep? Could he know?

  “You were having a nightmare,” he said, no censure in his voice.

  She nodded woodenly. He didn’t know. Her secret was still safe. Still her grief to hold close to her heart until she knew what was in his.

  The velvet night wrapped around them like a protective cocoon. She breathed in his scent. Felt the tension stiffening his muscles as he pulled back from her.

  “What’s hurting?” he asked, and she was glad he couldn’t read the truth that must surely be reflected in her eyes.

  Her heart. God, her heart ached for what they’d lost. What he couldn’t give her then and wouldn’t give her now.

  Oh, he’d marry her. But there’d be no love.

  She’d be nothing more than his lover. And God, she even craved that with a hunger that should have shamed her.

  “My stomach cramped some,” she said.

  The sudden stabs of pain had been just enough to plague her mind in sleep and stir awake memories that wouldn’t die. Just enough to make her relive that nightmare again, making it seem too real this time.

  “It’s the heat,” he said, one big hand moving slowly up and down her back, comforting her, rousing other memories that were just as strong as her grief. “You need to take in a bit more water.”

  She nodded and sipped at the canteen he handed her, knowing he was right. But she also admitted that what she wanted was right here holding her. That she wanted to feel that deep connection to him again.

  That she loved him still.

  Nothing was stopping her from taking what she desired most. Nothing but her pride.

  Chapter 14

  Daisy cupped his jaw and leaned close, her own eyes drifting shut. She pressed a light kiss at the corner of his mouth. Another on his chin. Then beneath it.

  “I’ve missed you,” she said, her voice so soft it was nearly a sigh on the wind.

  Her mind registered his quick, indrawn breath, the stilling of his hands on her back. “Daisy?”

  She didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to admit that she wanted this. Needed this. It made no sense after the cold-shoulder she’d given him.

  Her desire for him was stronger than her pride. Stronger than reason.

  “We have nothing to lose,” she said against his lips.

  His only response was the slightest tremor shaking his big body. “Dade would nail my hide on the barn if he knew I’d taken you before. That I’d come back and fallen into your bed again.”

  “I don’t care what he thinks,” she said. “He’s my brother, not my keeper.”

  “He might not see it that way.”

  “Then he’s in for a surprise.” She rested her forehead against his and breathed in his scent, taking him deep into her lungs as she longed to do with her body.

  She felt his smile beneath her fingertips, brief and a bit crooked. An endearing smile that made her feel s
pecial because it was so rare with him.

  “What am I going to do with you?” he asked.

  Love me! She bit back the words because she didn’t want anything to shatter the moment, but the truth sang in her heart.

  The first time she’d laid eyes on him, she’d fallen a bit in love. He was different than any man she’d ever met. Aloof. A drifter who made no apology for what he was.

  She had so little experience with men, but she knew when she exchanged a shy glance with Trey that he wouldn’t be a gentleman. He wouldn’t stop at a few stolen kisses for fear her daddy would catch them.

  Like Kurt, who never went a step beyond propriety, even though they were engaged to marry. She’d tried to feel something deep for him, but it wasn’t there. She knew it never would be.

  But Trey March was the forbidden. He didn’t fawn over her. He made her come to him. And when she did, he didn’t shy away from showing her the pleasure to be found in a man’s arms.

  “All my life I’ve bowed to a man’s orders,” she said, grazing his lips once, twice. “No more.”

  She settled her mouth over his, explored the seductive curve of his lips as she dragged her fingertips over the rasp of today’s whiskers. He hadn’t given anything of himself yet, just remained kneeling in front of the chair. But she sensed the tension rippling under his skin, felt his body shudder when she slipped her tongue under his upper lip.

  The same tremor rocked her as she sucked on his mouth, his chin. Her secret lay between them like a sore. She should tell him. Tell him now and get it over with. And if he pulled away from her? If he denied her this moment’s passion?

  She pulled back and damned the fact she couldn’t see his face in the darkness. But maybe that was better. Then she wouldn’t see the emotions in his eyes.

  “We’ve been through hell together,” she began.

  A deep groan tore from him. His arms banded around her and he pulled her flush against him.

  “I can show you heaven, Daisy. I did before and I can again,” he said, shoving her chemise up to bare her breasts to him. “If you want me.”

  If she wanted him? “Of course I do,” she said, trailing gentle fingers down the steely line of his jaw. “But after you left I found out ...”