by Pam Crooks
“Pardon me.” Aware of how he must look after two days on a horse, TJ removed his Stetson and raked his fingers through his hair. He found a smile to assure her. “I’m looking for someone.”
“Oh, forgive me.” Her hand lowered, and faint color infused her thin cheeks again. “You gave me a fright.”
Might be he looked worse than he thought; he should’ve taken the time to shave and clean up before coming. Or maybe the poor thing just tended to be easily nettled.
“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to.”
“We’ve had a dreadful morning, and it isn’t even noon yet. I’m a bit jumpy, I’m afraid.” She shook her head sadly and closed the ledger. “You say you’re looking for someone?”
“Yes.”
She reached for a black-bound book emblazoned with St. Anthony’s Hospital Registry. “What was the name of this someone?”
“Kullen Brosius.”
Again, her cheeks paled. “Brosius!”
“That’s right,” he said, uneasy from her reaction.
“He’s not here, TJ.”
TJ swung around toward the gruff voice behind him. Paunch-bellied Sheriff Dunbar stepped out of one of the patient rooms with his jaw set grim. A white-haired gentleman, dressed in a dark suit and appearing equally somber, followed him.
“Sheriff.” TJ nodded a stiff greeting and put his hat back on. He hadn’t seen the lawman since Dunbar took him to jail last year. Was his stern tone a forewarning he still held a grudge against TJ?
The question had no sooner formed in his thoughts than the sheriff’s words clicked in his brain.
“What do you mean, ‘he’s gone’?” TJ demanded.
“They found him missing a few hours ago.” Dunbar halted in front of him.
Shocked rolled through TJ. “He was wounded—”
“So I hear.”
Questions pounded against his temples, but TJ held them back, expecting the lawman to chastise him for being responsible for shooting Kullen. Never mind it was self-defense…
“Sounds like he had it comin’,” Dunbar said, his gray-eyed perusal shrewd.
“He did.” At least they agreed on that part of the matter. TJ regarded him back, like one enemy testing the other. “How’d you know?”
“Boomer Preston stopped by my office a couple of days ago and informed my deputy. Seemed Boomer came to town because he needed medical attention, too. Unfortunately, I was gone to Dallas with the missus, so Boomer reported to the deputy what happened out at his farm. He said Brosius would’ve killed you if he could.”
“He would’ve.”
“I came over to investigate. Among other things.”
Except the lawman was too late. They both were.
TJ fought frustration. “What other things?”
“Excuse me.”
TJ glanced over at the older man, standing slightly behind Dunbar and blatantly eavesdropping. TJ had all but forgotten he was there.
“I’m Dr. Feldman,” the gentleman said, and he held out his hand.
TJ clasped it firmly. “TJ Grier. I put the bullet in Kullen’s leg.”
“I was his surgeon.” He stood back, threaded his fingers behind his back. “His injury was quite complicated, I’m afraid. Mr. Brosius wouldn’t be able to leave this hospital without a great deal of pain and assistance.”
“I have an idea who helped him,” TJ said.
“Let me guess.” Dunbar reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pad, scribbled with notes. “Emmett Ralston.”
“That’s right.” TJ gave him a cold smile.
“Boomer reported what he knew about the man.” The sheriff returned the pad to his pocket. “You think they’re in cahoots with another?”
“I know so.”
“Perhaps we should investigate the plausibility of Mr. Ralston also being responsible for the thievery of our pharmaceuticals,” Dr. Feldman suggested sadly.
TJ’s glance sharpened. “What happened?”
The sheriff heaved a sigh. “Sometime before dawn, someone broke into the hospital’s pharmacy and stole a quantity of morphine vials.”
“If that weren’t enough, he gave poor Sister Carlotta the scare of her life.” The elderly lady at the desk sniffed, listening in behind them. “We were all terrified for her.”
“Sister was on duty when the attack occurred,” Feldman explained. “She was Mr. Brosius’s nurse, I might add, and we all admired her skills and compassion. That she was treated so roughly was unforgivable.”
“He clunked her on the head but good. Knocked her cold,” Dunbar added. “One of the other nuns found her tied up with her rosary in a cleaning closet.”
“Is she all right?” TJ asked.
“Doing better.” Feldman indicated the room he’d just vacated with the sheriff. “I’m afraid I had to sedate her, and she’s sleeping soundly for the time being. I suppose her injuries could have been worse.”
“Did she get a look at her attacker?” TJ had to know.
“Only that he had a beard.”
Fury building, TJ locked gazes with the lawman. “Emmett Ralston.”
“I guessed as much,” he said. “Don’t suppose you know where they would’ve gone?”
“If I knew, I’d go after them,” TJ growled.
Their gazes didn’t waver.
“Reckon you would at that, TJ,” Dunbar said quietly.
Doctor Feldman straightened. “I certainly hope both of them are apprehended as soon as possible. I’ll leave you to your work, Sheriff. I have patients to attend to.” He inclined his head toward TJ. “Good luck to both of you.”
After he left, TJ had no further reason to stay. But he was strangely reluctant to leave.
Sheriff Dunbar had been a friend long before TJ’s troubles started over Danny. Fair and even-tempered, his consistent reelections to his post proved he was well-liked and trusted throughout the county.
Dunbar never believed TJ’s lie about killing Danny. He’d made that plain throughout his interrogation, but TJ hadn’t budged from his story. It pained the lawman deeply to throw TJ into his jail until sentencing, then deport him to the state penitentiary in Huntsville shortly thereafter. TJ had seen it etched on the sheriff’s grizzled face, but he’d been bound to obey the judge’s decree, and obey the decree, he did.
“How are you, TJ?” Dunbar asked quietly.
The events of the past days paraded through his mind. The altercation with Kullen. The scare of losing Blue, then finding him. His time with Callie Mae, especially. The memory of holding her in his arms, tasting her lips. Wanting her, more than he’d ever wanted her before.
He tamped down the memories. The ache that never seemed to go away. “Well enough.”
“Good to see you.”
“Better than the last time, anyway.” Rueful, TJ quirked his mouth.
“Reckon that’s behind us now. Thank the Almighty.” Dunbar shook his head in regret. “But now this happened. Suppose Callie Mae is at her ranch?”
“That’s where she was headed.”
“Then I’m going to ride on out and tell her that her intended is missing. She’d want to know.”
Unfortunately, she would. The knowledge fouled TJ’s mood.
“Kullen won’t give her up easily,” he said. “We have to assume he’ll head out to see her at some point.”
“I’ll make sure the stagecoach and railroad stations keep an eye out in case he tries to leave town, though,” Sheriff Dunbar said, heading for his horse. “I have a few questions I’m figurin’ he’ll have answers for.”
“Makes two of us.”
The lawman paused. “Let me do my job, TJ. Stay out of this.” His warning rang firm. “They tried to kill you once, and mark my word, they’ll try again.”
TJ didn’t respond and swung onto the buckskin. He might never find the truth if he had to depend on someone else to do it for him.
For now, however, Callie Mae was safe. Woollie would make sure she was, and that gave TJ some comfort. Fact wa
s, TJ had Blue to think of, too. For now, he’d ride out to Boomer’s and make sure everyone there was all right.
Then, he’d find a way to see Callie Mae again.
Any way he could.
Chapter Sixteen
Later that night, Callie Mae stood at her bedroom window staring out into the shadowed ranch yard. The moon shone like a glowing ball pasted against the black, star-studded sky. The night was calm, eerily still. Not a leaf moved on the trees.
She didn’t know the hour, but she didn’t care enough to find out from the clock on her bedside table. Midnight, perhaps. Maybe later.
It didn’t matter.
Only the decision she had to make did.
What was she to do about Kullen?
Sheriff Dunbar’s visit early this afternoon had thrown the ranch into a tailspin. Kullen’s escape from the hospital shot suspicion through the outfit which proved catching. Why would he risk further injuring himself by abandoning the care and recuperation he very much needed?
Because he had something to hide?
The fact that vials of morphine were stolen from St. Anthony’s pharmacy fit the picture of a man desperate to flee his crimes. That Emmett Ralston might’ve helped him did, too. It would’ve been almost impossible for Kullen to escape by himself, given his invalid condition. He would’ve needed Emmett’s help.
Were they guilty of wanting to harm Danny, as TJ insisted?
If so, why?
And TJ. Oh, but she couldn’t shake him from her thoughts. He’d branded himself onto her heart. A brand she had no right to allow.
But she had.
She’d betrayed Kullen in a way far different than he likely betrayed her, but one equally unforgivable. And unexpected. She’d been so sure Kullen would make the perfect husband, the best match for her beloved Lockett legacy.
Had she made a terrible mistake?
She feared she had.
These past days with TJ had taught Callie Mae awareness for a man like she’d never had with Kullen. An earthy, muscle-and-bone kind of awareness. TJ was at one with the land, with sweat and horses and hard work. He needed self-respect and honor in every fiber of his being to be able to look himself in the mirror each morning. A man capable of immense love so deep, so powerful, a woman would always know she had his complete and undivided devotion.
How fortunate she would be.
Callie Mae remembered how TJ had declared his feelings for her. Without hesitation. But was it born of lust? The immediacy of their situation? Their being alone, working together to find his horse?
Perhaps.
Yet Kullen claimed to love her, too. Did he have an eye toward power? Money? Glory?
The C Bar C could give him all those things.
Why hadn’t Callie Mae seen it before?
Still, maybe she was wrong. Maybe everyone—TJ, Sheriff Dunbar, Woollie and the rest of the outfit—was merely overreacting to his behavior. Maybe his reasons for escaping St. Anthony’s hospital meant something different, something completely logical.
Then again, maybe it didn’t.
Nothing made sense.
Concerned that Kullen might try to contact her, or even retaliate against her, Woollie and the sheriff assigned C Bar C men to take turns guarding the house. Her. She’d protested, loudly, that Kullen would never hurt her.
But they hadn’t listened, and Callie Mae could see armed cowboys right outside her bedroom window.
They made her feel like a princess in an ivory tower. Come morning, she’d put a stop to this ridiculous over-protectiveness. She could take care of herself with Kullen. She’d planned to marry him, for pity’s sake.
Movement in the yard distracted her thoughts, and she recognized Jesse Keller taking Orlin Fahey’s place as guard. Their indiscernible voices drifted upward through her half-open window; soon, the older man’s darkened shape shuffled off in the direction of the bunkhouse, and the yard fell silent once again.
Mentally drained, her bed finally beckoning, Callie Mae turned away. After removing her robe and tossing it over a chair, she pulled back the quilts on the big four-poster and climbed beneath. Her body settled into the pillow and mattress; the crisp sheets felt cool, heavenly…
A sound brought her instantly awake.
Callie Mae’s gaze darted toward the open window; a light breeze played with the hems of the curtains. Moonlight spilled inward, bringing with it… silence.
She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Yet she sensed something wasn’t right.
Her heart pounded. Suddenly, behind her, the mattress dipped. A hand clamped over her mouth and locked the scream in her throat.
“Don’t be afraid, Callie Mae.”
She stilled at the low whisper, gently spoken. Husky.
Familiar.
The hand eased off her mouth. Her head swiveled on the pillow. A dark, rugged face loomed over her, and her eyes widened in recognition.
“TJ!” she gasped.
He held a finger to his lips. “Shh.”
“What are you—”
“Shh, darlin’.”
She rolled to her back. “Don’t ‘darlin” me,” she hissed, though she took care to make it a quiet hiss. “What are you doing in here?”
For a moment, his gaze lingered over her face. The shadows sharpened the angles of his jaw, his chin, making him appear ruthless and dangerous.
Wildly exciting.
He reached out and tenderly threaded his fingers through her hair.
“I couldn’t stay away,” he said.
The words sounded wrenched from him. Her heart tilted and swayed. “You should have.”
“I know.”
She darted a quick look at the closed door. “Woollie will have a fit if he finds—”
“I know that, too.”
“TJ.” She bit her lip. The mattress dipped again. He shifted his position and swung his body around to straddle hers. She pushed on his hard thighs. “TJ, you can’t be in here.”
“No other place I want to be.” He planted his hands near her shoulders, lowered his head and nuzzled her neck. “Don’t send me away, Callie.”
She fought to breathe, to think. Fought for strength to resist him, but dear God, already her bones were melting from having him with her like this, her blood stirring from a slow fire.
“TJ.” Her lashes drifted closed. His scent assailed her—shaving soap, wind and leather. “How did you get in here?”
Her room was located on the second floor. Woollie set up a cot in the parlor, protecting her from inside the house while her parents were gone. It would’ve been impossible for TJ to slip past him. Impossible.
“Jesse was willing to do me a favor.” His smooth jaw rubbed against hers; he grazed her chin with his teeth. “And that big ol’ tree outside your window has some mighty strong branches.”
Her eyes flew open in alarm; her glance jumped toward the fluttering curtains on the adjoining wall.
“You crawled in through the window?”
He chuckled softly. “Like I said. I couldn’t stay away.”
His breath mingled with hers. The bulk of his body filled her vision and hid the moonlight. Somehow, her hands had found their way from his thighs into the thickness of his hair.
“Oh, TJ.”
“Let me stay with you tonight.” He turned serious, the low timbre of his voice rough. Insistent.
“You can’t. We mustn’t.” Her lashes drifted closed again. She couldn’t help it, not with the way his tongue traced the shape of her mouth, igniting an ache to be kissed. Again and again. “TJ, this is crazy.”
Never had she had a man in her bed. But then, never had she slept with one, either. Not until TJ, the two of them together these past nights.
Only him…
“What’s crazy, Callie Mae? Wanting you like this? Not being able to get you out of my mind?”
“Yes.” He’d yet to ease his teasing assault, and she arched a little to meet his lips, to satisfy this growing need to be ravaged�
��
But he drew back some, so she couldn’t.
“I’ve wanted you for so long, it feels like my whole life,” he murmured. “Seems like I need to make love to you, just to get you out of my system.”
“Kiss me, TJ.”
“Believe me. I want to.”
Again, his head lowered, this time for her earlobe, tantalizing nibbles that sent her nerve endings sizzling.
“Why don’t you then?”
Like the pathetic wanton she seemed to be, she turned her face into him, rooting for his kiss like a suckling babe at the breast.
“’Cuz I promised not to.”
“When?”
“Yesterday. You made me.”
“I made you promise not to kiss me?” For the life of her, she couldn’t remember. Not when she wanted him to kiss her now. A mindless kind of wanting. “I didn’t.”
“You did. And I’m a man of my word.”
“I’ll understand if you break it this time.”
His dark head lifted. If she expected him to be amused, he wasn’t.
“Up to now, Callie Mae, I’ve let you call the shots. But from here on out, we play by my rules. If I kiss you, I’m not going to stop at one. Or two. Or three.”
He paused, as if to allow her time to comprehend the immensity of what he said. And wanted. The depth of his desire for her. That they both hovered at the point of no return.
“When I start, I won’t stop,” he continued huskily. “It’s all or nothing for us, darlin’. All or nothing.”
And she understood. If she refused him, it’d be the end. He would leave, and she might never see him again.
Is that what she truly wanted?
“I love you, Callie Mae.” He trailed his knuckle over her lips. “No matter what, I’ll always love you.”
Emotion welled in her throat. They were words he wouldn’t give away lightly to anyone. This proud and honorable cowboy who loved everything about her—her home, her land, the woman she’d become.
“I can’t send you away this time, TJ,” she said, her voice whisper-soft. “God help me, it’s too late for that.”
For a moment, he didn’t move.
Then, he drew back. Eased off the bed. And began to unbutton his shirt. By the time he removed his denims and boots and left them all in a pile on the floor, the blood hummed in her veins with anticipation.