Branded

by Vivian Vaughan

  At least he hoped not. He would sure as hell hate to have to lie to John Wesley Hardin.

  “You’ve still got the key,” Hardin said. “Be my guest.”

  The plan was easy to formulate, too easy, for by twilight when Trevor left Wes Hardin’s apartment and headed for the hill to meet Jacy, he had nothing else to think about—nothing except her, and resentment was the least of what he felt.

  He was on fire for her. Being near her triggered every latent erotic craving in his body. Sitting on the hill, waiting for sight of her, anticipation thrummed inside him. He squirmed on the hard caliche ground, watched the stars come out one by one, while a deep truth dawned on him. He felt closer to Jacy than to anyone in the world. Even to Hunter.

  Which, on further contemplation, he realized, could be the problem. His feelings were dangerously close to something he did not believe in, had never allowed himself to believe in—love and commitment, emotions of the human heart, conditions of the human spirit. Emotions and conditions that sapped a body’s strength and left a man vulnerable. And a woman dead. He had seen what love did to a woman. His mother died rather than forsake his drifting father.

  Trevor wanted Jacy, he admitted, that he could not deny. But nothing else existed between them. Nothing else could. Nothing but passion, which he must control for his plan to work. To save Hunter he needed all his wits and then some.

  Which might not pose the problem he feared, for as it got later and later, Jacy did not appear. Trevor began to worry about other things.

  She wasn’t coming? What had happened down there in that hovel? He could see lamplight spilling from the windows, at least he thought it was from their house. But no Jacy.

  What had happened? Had Drummond gone completely mad? Had he persuaded Jacy to his way of thinking? Still Trevor waited, telling himself it was the only way to save Hunter. By the time she arrived it was close to midnight and he was fit to be tied. One sight of her set his brain to spinning. He lifted an arm, waved.

  “Trev—” She clamped a hand over her mouth and peered behind her.

  Trevor tensed.

  She slid to her knees beside him. Her voice was full of welcome and caution. “Don’t you know Selman has every available man out looking for you?”

  Trevor stared at her, intense, breathless.

  “He came to the house. Someone heard Papa’s shouts and either recognized you or put two and two together.”

  “Two and two?” As serious as the situation was, Trevor could think of nothing but the woman beside him. “What does that add up to, Jace?”

  She drew a sharp breath. Her eyes shone in the moonlight. Her presence intoxicated him.

  “Yuma,” she said solemnly.

  Yuma. Prison. The thrum in his body became an ache. He wouldn’t go quietly this time. They would have to drag him away from this woman. How could he give her up for a dream? Now that he was here, beside her, close enough to…When he reached for her, she moved aside.

  Like he would teach an unbroke colt to trust him, he relaxed, or tried to, turning his attention to the night sky. After a minute, she settled down, sat beside him, drew her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them. He remembered those long, slender legs wrapped around him.

  In his dream. “I decided you weren’t coming,” he said after a while. He tried to focus on the stars but wasn’t successful. A startling electricity sizzled between them. It glowed brighter than a thousand stars and demanded all his attention. “Jace—”

  “Trevor,” she interrupted, speaking to the sky. “I’m so ashamed of Papa. The things he said…I’m sorry—”

  “Shhh.” He reached for her again, but again, she scooted away. “Come here, Jace.” He tried to keep the desperation from his voice. “Let me hold you.”

  “No.” The word sounded like it was spoken on her last breath.

  “Tired?”

  She shrugged.

  He was tired, too. Tired of wanting her and not having her. Tired of needing her and being afraid he would never have her. He wanted to pull her to his chest and kiss her and take her hair down and run his fingers through it.

  Like in his dream. Which, after all, had been only a dream. He tried to relax, to be glad just to be here beside her, the real Jacy, rather than on a lonely, miserable cot in a prison cell dreaming of her. “What happened today?”

  “The usual. Todd skipped school. Tía Bella tried to take letters from the mail bag, and Papa…” Her words trailed off.

  “What about Mari?”

  “Mari? She spends most of her time at Mass praying for Hunter.” She turned slightly. “And for you.”

  “For me?”

  “She wants to see you, Trevor. She asked me to arrange it. I told her it was too dangerous with Selman’s men out beating the bushes.” She stared at him a moment, then turned her attention to the stars. “Mari never believed you were guilty.”

  The claim startled him. Then he chuckled. “She didn’t, huh?”

  “Don’t sound so smug,” she retorted, a weak imitation of the Jacy of old. “Mari doesn’t think bad of anyone.”

  “But you do?”

  “I…” Her voice trailed off. “I wanted…” Again she stopped, regrouped, and took another tack. “I don’t know why I couldn’t believe in you.”

  “I do.”

  She turned to stare at him again, questioning. The openness in her expression was almost his undoing. He held onto control by a gossamer thread. These things needed to be said, gotten out of the way, the air cleared, before…

  “You thought I slept with Ana,” he explained, watching starlight glance off the blue of her eyes. He could tell she was stunned even before she spoke.

  “Mari could have thought the same thing about Hunter,” she argued.

  “No. They’d been married too long. They trusted each other. We hadn’t done a hell of a lot to build up trust, Jace. The games we played, it’s no wonder you thought I was guilty. I understand.” Lifting a hand, he brushed strands of blond hair away from her face. The feel of her skin against his fingers raced like lightning through him. The touch of her awakened him. He felt alive, consumed by the awful, wonderful, dreadful want of her. With the greatest of difficulty he resisted forcing her into his arms. “God, Jace, I want to make love to you more than I’ve ever wanted to make love in my life.”

  She didn’t move an inch. He felt her pulse drum against his hand. Her gaze held steady, and although he couldn’t read her expression in the darkness, he felt her acquiescence, just before she shuddered.

  She turned her face away, hiding it in her knees. “Papa made it sound so dirty.”

  He reached for her, stroked her hair, which was in the tight bun. He wished it were down, long and flowing, soft and sensual. He wished she would come to him. “Jace, Jace, don’t think about that. Look at me. Please.”

  She turned toward him, but he could tell she wasn’t looking at his face. Hell, this wasn’t the time or place, anyhow. He wondered despondently whether the time and place would ever come.

  “Did you get him to talk any more, about Hunter, I mean?”

  “No.” She seemed to relax with the change of subject. “He just kept saying Hunter wouldn’t hang and that he didn’t have to explain anything.”

  Suddenly all Trevor’s frustrations collided head-on. His desire and determination, everything that could be so good but was out of reach, hit a wall—a prison wall—the wall built by Drummond Kimble’s hatred. He jumped to his feet.

  “If he won’t tell you why, Jace, he’s lying.” He glared down into her startled eyes, while his body struggled with the painful transition between desire and despair. “He’s lying,” he repeated, quieter now.

  “Maybe,” she acknowledged. “He’s so pitiful, Trevor. Pathetic, really. He lost everything—his son, his home, his political career. I over-protect him, I know. But I’ve had to take his place. I’ve tried to keep the family together, but it’s falling apart. The children are…Sophie is hateful and sarcasti
c.”

  He looked down at her, longing to take her in his arms, to console her. But she had turned away from him twice now. He wouldn’t press her any more tonight. “Takes after her Aunt Jace, huh?”

  “A little.” She grinned, rueful. “A little too much. And Todd sneaks off to the plaza every chance he gets. Even though I know it’s a shield, he acts proud that his father is in prison. When I reprimanded him for skipping school today, he told me John Wesley Hardin read for the law in prison and he could, too.”

  Trevor reached a hand to her. “It’s been tough.”

  “It isn’t over.” Taking his hand, she rose to face him. “But Hunter is the one in immediate danger. I don’t know what to do about him, Trevor. What can we do?”

  He took her shoulders, felt the hot, soft skin beneath her rebozo and worn blouse—or imagined it. Suddenly he was tired of imagining the feel of her, the taste of her. For five years all he had were dreams and fantasies. They were no longer enough. Suddenly he needed the real thing.

  The real Jacy Kimble.

  “Come to Arizona with me, Jace.”

  Six

  Arizona. Home. Jacy’s pulse raced at Trevor’s invitation. Come to Arizona. Come home. With me.

  “What did you say?”

  “Come to Arizona with me,” Trevor repeated, enunciating every syllable.

  “I heard what you said!” she snapped. How dare he play with her emotions? “Have you lost your mind? Who do you think I am? I have responsibilities, duties. I can’t just run off with you. You may still be irresponsible, but I—”

  “Jace, Jace.” He tried to pull her to his chest, but she broke free. “Calm down,” he said to her back. “You asked what we can do for Hunter. I told you.”

  She stared at the velvet sky, unseeing, inhaling deep, heavy drafts of cactus-scented night air. Usually the soft perfumed air brought peace; usually the star-studded sky brought a sense of calm. Tonight there was no peace, and any calm would be the proverbial calm before the storm. Go to Arizona. With Trevor. A dream come true. A nightmare.

  “How could you ask such a thing?” Crossing her arms over her chest, she gripped them with opposite hands. “How could you blithely suggest—”

  “Blithely? Damnit, Jace, I can’t do anything in Arizona without you.”

  She heard the anger, the frustration. It echoed her own. Looking into the distance she picked out the black form of the stage station. Beyond it, here and there, lights still flickered, but at midnight most of El Paso was asleep. The Río Grande shone like a curling silver ribbon on a velvet dress. Undulating, like her emotions.

  “It’s the only way,” Trevor was saying.

  “That’s the most foolish thing I’ve ever heard. What could I do in Arizona?”

  “Talk to people. Go places I can’t. It’s the only way to save Hunter.”

  “Wes Hardin is in contact with Tom Guest,” she explained carefully. “They’re doing all they can.” She turned on him. “Which isn’t much, thanks to you. Tom’s last letter said negotiations fell through after your escape.”

  “Tom Guest wrote that?”

  She nodded, reminding him, “In the same letter he reported Yancy’s body being found.”

  “Damn, I hadn’t put the two together before.” Trevor stared off down the hill. “Of course, news like that travels fast. I don’t suppose it means anything.”

  “Means anything? You aren’t suggesting Tom…” Suddenly her anguish turned to anger. “Tom Guest is the best friend Papa ever had. Our families have been friends forever. Mrs. Guest was like a mother to Hunter and me.” She shrugged. Memories of the persimmon-faced Oleta Guest took the edge off her anger at Trevor. Anger she realized was seeded deep inside her, inside her insidious yearning for this man. Anger and desire, hate and love. Weren’t they all of the same cloth? “At least she tried to be.”

  “Hunter said Tom coveted the Diamond K. Is that true?”

  “Covet? He and Papa had a running joke about it. Tom always said he would get Papa drunk and win the ranch someday,” she remembered fondly. The good old days. “Tom loved the ranch. I’m sure he would have bought it in a minute if Papa ever decided to sell. But covet is too strong a word.”

  Trevor studied her with unrelenting intensity. It was an open expression. Maybe not to others, but to her. She could read the want deep inside him, the desire; she felt it, too. And the desperation. The last seemed to spark from them. The old magnetism. She was struck suddenly by the knowledge that it would never go away.

  Finally he grinned. “And Junior tried to marry Miss Fancy Pants Jacy Kimble.”

  “That has nothing to do with anything,” she retorted, chagrined that he could see into the very heart of her.

  “Maybe,” he drawled. “Maybe not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He held her gaze again, until she began to fidget. It wasn’t want she saw in his expression now. Not entirely. Now she saw something rife with foreboding. When he spoke his voice echoed the somber tone.

  “Remember I told you about Mama Dee working for Tom?”

  “Yes,” she admitted, trembling suddenly. “It was nice of him—”

  “Nice? You think it’s nice that Tom Guest has moved lock, stock, and barrel to the Diamond K?”

  “What?”

  “Tom Guest is living—”

  “I heard you!” she snapped. “But…” Mama Dee left on the stage for Tucson to catch the train to Virginia. Jacy remembered hugging her good-bye. Why would she lie? Why would Papa lie?

  “Do you think Drummond knows Tom bought the ranch?”

  “Bought it?” Jacy was stunned. For five years she had survived by dreaming of their return home—to Arizona, to the Diamond K. Now…“Maybe he’s just living there, maybe…”

  “Maybe, maybe. Face facts, Jace. Tom Guest is no friend.”

  Bewildered she glared at the glittering sky. Even the stars seemed to mock her. “Of course, he is.”

  “Of course,” Trevor echoed with sarcasm. “Heaven forbid you believe a sorry, worthless old drifter like Trevor Fallon over the prestigious Tom Guest.”

  “Bastard!”

  “Come with me, Jace. We’ll save Hunter. I know we can. But we have to get busy.”

  She was tempted to go. Lord how she wanted to. Tempted to believe him. But she couldn’t allow her feelings for this man to rule her mind, nor even her extraordinary passion to return home. “You don’t understand. Even if it would help, I couldn’t leave.”

  “I can’t do anything in Arizona without you,” he argued.

  Again she heard his anger and frustration. She felt them, too. She looked down the hill to where her family slept. The only peace she had any more, or so it seemed, was when they were all asleep. “No telling what would happen if I left them, even for a day. Sophie needs constant attention, and Todd needs constant supervision, and—”

  “They’re Mari’s children, Jace.”

  “Mari is never around,” she said bitterly. “She thinks praying will solve all our problems.”

  “Then she must have changed more than you have.” Trevor snapped back. “Mari was the best mother I ever knew. Of course, my personal experience in that area is limited.”

  “And there’s Papa,” Jacy added. “More nights than not he gets too drunk to come home. If I’m not here to go after him, he could get rolled by thugs. He could wander off into the desert or over the river into Old Mexico. We might never find him—”

  “Listen to yourself,” he chastised. “Listen. They depend on you, sure they do. You’ve taken control—”

  “Control?” Anger burned hot at the rebuke. “How dare you! You have no idea how hard it’s been, how much I’ve tried and failed and tried again to keep this family together. This family you tore apart.”

  “Spoken like Papa’s little girl,” he barked. “I’m still the sorry scoundrel, the worthless scum who ruined your life. Damn, Jace, grow up. Look around. No one is indispensable, unless he makes himself so. This
thing is big and getting bigger. You can’t control it. I can’t. The best we can hope for is to free Hunter by hook or crook.”

  “Hook or crook? Like you do everything.”

  “Damn right, sweetheart.”

  She started to walk away. She should walk away. But she had never been able to leave an argument with Trevor unfinished. “Since you know so much,” she said, sarcasm oozing from her throaty voice, “tell me exactly how my going to Arizona would save Hunter. You always did think you knew everything.”

  He squinted at her, hands anchoring hips, insolent, arrogant, as though his only mission in life was to insult her. “You thought so once, didn’t you, Jace?” His voice was low, deliberately seductive. “Remember? Always begging me to teach you everything I knew?”

  “Bastard!”

  He chuckled, but it was a harsh sound. It grated on her ears and seemed to pierce her heart.

  “Whether you believe it or not,” she said again, “I’m all that stands between my family and the poorhouse.”

  “Thatagirl, Jace. Stick with it till the end. Only this time it won’t be your end, it’ll be Hunter’s.”

  “You’re despicable.”

  “I’m telling the truth.”

  She sighed heavily.

  “But of course you still don’t believe me. Not that it matters. You never did. What else is new?”

  “Don’t be cruel.”

  “Cruel? Me? I’m not the one refusing to help Hunter.”

  “I’m not refusing, damnit. I’m doing all I can.”

  “Not all.”

  “I can’t go with you. If that means losing Hunter…” Her words trailed off at the unthinkable, the unspeakable horror of it. “I have to think about his children.”

  “Damnit, Jace, his children have a mother.”

  “They need me.”

  Trevor growled. “Then go on back to them.” He jerked his head toward the house in the distance. “Go on back. Do your duty. Don’t let me spoil this little world you’ve built for yourself.”

  “Bastard.”

  “You’ve called me that three times now. Run along.”