Tomorrow's Shining Dream

by Naomi Rawlings

  “Do I need to give you a reason?” Cain shoveled another bite of food into his mouth. “Do yourself a favor and take the easy path for once. Forget about that note, and go dance with your sweetheart at her birthday ball tonight. Leave the rest to me and my men.”

  Daniel gripped the side of the table and leaned forward. Every time they spoke, it seemed Cain looked for ways to insult him. “I sure hope you’re not as clueless about being a lawman as you are about love. Charlotte Westin is getting ready to marry another man.”

  Or maybe she wasn’t anymore. He didn’t know after their conversation last night.

  “You think I’m the one who’s clueless?” Cain gave him a mocking glance. “I got eyes in my head, and they tell me Charlotte Westin is your sweetheart, whether she marries some dandy from the city or not.”

  Daniel pressed his lips together. “I didn’t come here to discuss Charlotte. Someone needs to go to Closed Canyon tonight, and if you won’t, I will.”

  Why did Cain have to be this way? Always so hard. Always so unyielding. Always so arrogant. There was a part of him that knew he should apologize for accusing Cain of shirking his responsibilities on the night his father had been maimed. There was even a part of him that knew he needed to ask forgiveness for the years he’d blamed Cain for something that hadn’t really been his fault.

  After all, he understood what it was like to try his best and fail. And he also knew how it felt to have someone blame you for something that wasn’t your fault. Mattherson’s rustled cattle were a perfect example of both.

  But how could he bring himself to ask forgiveness when Cain was nothing but arrogant and condescending? The man didn’t listen to a word he had to say when it came to apprehending the rustlers, never mind that he knew this county far better than Cain.

  “I’ve asked you twice already.” Daniel met Cain’s gaze from across the table. “Why do you think my note is a trap?”

  Cain took a swig of coffee. “Because there was movement again last night on the trail on Sam’s land.”

  Daniel shrugged. “You said that earlier this week. Nothing’s come of it.”

  “Movement twice in the same week? That’s a change worth noting, unlike the volunteers you have stationed at Closed Canyon that haven’t seen so much as a scorpion move.”

  “Did you catch the rustlers?”

  “No. I told you, I’m not going to bother catching rustlers or reclaiming cattle unless they’re moving over two hundred head. I need to gather more information before I act. Last time my scouts didn’t bring back as much information as I hoped, but this time I had extra men already stationed on the trail. Two of them are trailing the rustlers as we speak. As long as they can stay out of sight, we’ll know where the rustlers are driving the cattle in a few more days.”

  “How many cattle did they move? Did your men get a look at their brands?” It was probably futile to hope some of them were Mattherson’s, but he just couldn’t stop himself.

  “Only about fifteen head, and it would have been too dark to identify any brands.”

  “Something isn’t right.” Daniel leaned back in his chair, still not touching the breakfast in front of him. “The outlaws we found in May wouldn’t bother with fifteen head. It can’t be the same group.”

  “So you think I should pull men away from the known rustling trail and take them to Closed Canyon?” Cain shoved away from the table. “I’ll bet you ten dollars the rustlers themselves left that note because they’re planning to move a large amount of cattle through Sam’s trail. If we do what you suggest, we’ll get ourselves ambushed again, and the rustlers will have an open road into Mexico.”

  Daniel stared down at the slip of paper already beginning to crinkle at the edges. The small, stilted letters gave no clue about who had written it, but he wasn’t going to ignore it, especially not when it fit with what he already suspected was happening in Closed Canyon.

  “This note is real. Only a fool would discount it so quickly.”

  “I already lost five men to the ambush the bandits set for us in Mexico.” Cain’s voice was void of any emotion except the hardness he’d always carried with him. “I’m not about to walk into another of their traps. This matter is closed.”

  “Fine, then I’ll round up some more volunteers and go to Closed Canyon tonight.” Having Cain’s support—or at least a few of his men—would make staking out the canyon easier, but he would act with or without Cain.

  “You’re not listening.” Cain slammed his palm against the table, causing the board balanced over the old barrel to wobble. “Stay clear of the canyon, forget about the note, and go to your sweetheart’s birthday party tonight like a good boy. That’s an order.”

  “I’m not one of your rangers. I don’t have to follow your orders.” Daniel stood. Why had he even come out to the camp? Had he really thought Cain would help him?

  And here he’d almost been ready to apologize.

  “You can’t send men to the canyon.” Cain stood as well, but his voice remained even, void of the faintest hint that he cared about any of this. “If that note isn’t fake, and you take untrained volunteers out there, the lot of you will end up dead.”

  Daniel met Cain’s gaze evenly. If he’d had this conversation with Cain once before, he’d had it a hundred times. He could almost go back in time to when they were ten. Even then, Cain had been too arrogant to listen to anyone besides himself. “The people of Twin Rivers hired me to protect this town, and the longer the rustling continues, the more the ranchers in these parts stand to lose. Someone needs to stop the outlaws, and if my life gets risked in the process, then that’s a gamble I’ll have to take.”

  Strength in weakness. Daniel couldn’t say why, but the words his father had spoken earlier that week haunted him through his meeting with Abe and two of his volunteers, Lenard Cunningham, who was the general store owner’s son, and Aimes from the A Bar W. He explained the plan to stake out Closed Canyon, and they all discussed not going to Charlotte’s party so that they could prepare. But the party started at six p.m., and the time given on the note was two a.m. If the rustlers were paying anyone in town to be an informant, chances were the informant would be at Charlotte’s party.

  Cain must have had the same idea about a possible informant, because when Daniel walked through the doors of the Westins’ hacienda that evening, lawmen were everywhere. The place was fuller than he had ever seen it before, even when the Westins had their giant house party. Of course, it didn’t help that he had a wooden crate tucked under his arm as he maneuvered through the crowd.

  Rather than go upstairs to the ballroom, Daniel turned and walked down the corridor on the first floor. Strains of music floated down through the ceiling, and the extra staff the Westins had hired to help prepare for the meal fluttered about.

  Daniel dodged several workers and had to hold the crate out of the way twice before he finally turned the corner—only to bump into Wes.

  “Whoa there.” Wes reached out to steady the wooden box before it toppled to the floor. He was dressed in a crisp three-piece suit. “Were you looking for me?”

  “I was hoping to put this in your office.” Daniel pulled the crate firmly back into his grip. He’d assumed Wes was already upstairs with the rest of the crowd, but he hadn’t figured his friend would mind him setting something on the corner of his desk for a half hour or so. “I brought it for Charlotte, but it’s not the kind of thing one carries around while dancing.”

  Wes studied the crate. “You brought Charlie a present?”

  “It’s nothing fancy, just a cactus.”

  “A cactus? Like what’s growing all over outside?”

  Daniel shifted. So maybe his idea was a bit foolish, even if it had seemed good at the time. “Ah… yes. Like that, I… uh… I reckon.”

  “Alright.” Wes drew out the word.

  Daniel resisted the urge to reach up and tug at his collar. “The crate will only be there for a little bit, but if it’s a problem, I can find
somewhere else to put it.”

  “No, no. You can put it in my office, but I need to get you a key. With so many people in the hacienda, I have it locked.” He turned and sauntered down the corridor to his office door.

  Daniel followed Wes inside and set the crate on the corner of the desk. “Thank you.”

  Wes opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out another key. “Do you have feelings for her?”

  “What?”

  “My sister.” Wes narrowed his eyes. “Do you have feelings for her?”

  The breath left his lungs in a giant rush. Would his friend kill him if he admitted the truth?

  “Well?” Wes waited, his fist closed tightly around the key needed to get back into this office.

  Daniel cleared his throat. “Charlotte is… ah… capable of making her own choices, and if that includes marrying another man, then I have no intention of getting in the way of it.” That was true, and it was also as much as his friend needed to know. After all, he planned to say goodbye to her tonight and not see her again until his heart had recovered from losing her.

  Wes gave him an odd look but didn’t say anything more, just handed him the key. “She’s upstairs somewhere. I need to check on something down here before I go to the ballroom. Make sure you lock the office after you give her the cactus.”

  “Yes, sir.” Daniel turned and raced out the door before Wes could think of more questions.

  He fully expected Charlotte to be dancing with Mortimer, but after making his way up the busy staircase and slipping through the crowded ballroom, he found her dancing with one of the ranch hands.

  She wore a gown of royal blue that made her look like she belonged in a king’s court and not in the middle of the desert. But that was only part of her beauty, the rest came from Charlotte herself. She moved around the floor fluidly, and the natural smile lighting her face bore no resemblance to the nervous looks she’d given him that afternoon they’d danced in the parlor.

  An ache started somewhere near his chest and spread outward until it threatened to consume him.

  Were their lessons responsible for this change?

  Was he responsible for the change?

  He waited for the music to end. But she only danced with another partner, and another after that.

  “Stare any harder and you’ll burn holes through that highfalutin’ dress she’s wearing.”

  Daniel stiffened at the sound of the taunting drawl beside him, then cast a sidelong glance at Cain.

  His wavy blond hair had been brushed free of tangles and fell loosely down to his shoulders, and his trousers and vest both looked freshly pressed.

  “For a man who usually keeps his mouth shut, you’re awful good at finding all the wrong times to talk,” Daniel muttered.

  “Go dance with her.”

  “Shut up.”

  Cain just smirked. “Tell me you don’t want to storm out there and rip her out of Sam’s arms.”

  Daniel glanced back at the dance floor. A new tune had started, and sure enough, Charlotte was dancing with Sam. “This isn’t about what I want, this is about what’s best for her.”

  “But not about what’s best for you?”

  “What do you know about what’s best for me?”

  “I know a man in love when I see one.”

  Oh, hang it all. Why did Cain have to be so perceptive? “Then I guess you’re about to know a man out-of-love, too, because Charlotte is going to marry Andrew Mortimer, not me.”

  “And that’s a cryin’ shame.”

  “Since when do you care?”

  Cain’s jaw tightened.

  “That’s what I thought.” Daniel turned and headed toward the punch table.

  Charlotte would have to stop dancing and get a drink at some point, and it would be a lot easier to pull her away from the crowd unnoticed if they met by the punch bowl than it would be if he dragged her off the dance floor.

  She danced with Sam for two songs before she had the same idea as him and excused herself to get a drink.

  “Daniel.” The smile dropped from her face when she saw him, and she fiddled with the sash tied at her waist.

  Not the reaction he’d been hoping for. “Will you go downstairs with me for a bit?”

  She scanned the room. “Actually, Andrew should be here any minute. He and our fathers had something to discuss.”

  “I have something for you. A birthday present of sorts.”

  “You brought me a present?”

  Was that a spark of interest in her eyes? He swallowed.

  “I suppose I can go downstairs for a few minutes, as long as I come straight back.”

  He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, and his heart nearly splintered. It didn’t make any sense. He’d placed her hand in that exact spot hundreds of times before and had never felt as though his chest was about to shatter.

  He led her through the maze of people and out the ballroom’s double doors. Part of him was certain Andrew would show up and demand to know where they were going, or Mr. Westin would come and pull Charlotte away from him, claiming she had something important to do. But they reached the first floor without incident.

  “I put it in your brother’s office.” He steered her down the hallway.

  “What is it?” That spark of anticipation was back in her eyes, so he must not have imagined it before.

  But what if she didn’t like the cactus? Suddenly this whole idea of giving her a present seemed insanely foolish.

  “It’s nothing fancy, so don’t get too excited, but I thought, well…” He unlocked the door and gestured to the crate.

  She walked over and pulled off the lid.

  “You’re giving me a cactus?” The smile dropped from her face.

  “A prickly pear. Remember how we talked about them that day at Closed Canyon, and how you said you liked them, that they were tough and ugly most of the time, but then they produced the most beautiful flowers?” Heat crept up his neck and into his face. This was the worst idea ever. Why had he bothered? If Charlotte couldn’t understand his gift without him explaining it, then he should have forgotten the idea entirely.

  She reached inside and pulled the small plant out, then held it up to inspect the unusual pot.

  “I went to Fort Ashton about a week ago to make sure Rutherford was behaving. One of the traders there had the seashell flowerpot. I don’t know where he got it from, but when I saw him standing in line waiting for a chance to trade with Rutherford, I thought about how you said if you had to leave the desert, then you wanted to go to the ocean.” Daniel rubbed the back of his neck, which seemed to burn hotter than it would if he got stuck in the desert in the middle of the afternoon without his hat. “I know it’s not the fanciest flowerpot you’ve ever seen, but I thought that this way if you marry Mortimer, you can take both a bit of the desert and a bit of the ocean with you to San Antonio.”

  He stopped talking then, not because he’d run out of things to say, but because the more he talked, the more ridiculous he felt. He must be the world’s biggest dunce to think a potted cactus made a good gift for a woman.

  “I love it.”

  He blinked. “You do?”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  It wasn’t. The plant was scraggly and prickly without a single flower in bloom since it was out of season, and while the flowerpot was unique, it had come with two cracked shells. Since he lived so far from the ocean, he couldn’t do anything to replace them.

  “I’ve never tried growing a plant before.” She looked up at him.

  “Cacti aren’t hard to tend. Just forget about them most of the time and water them once a month or so.”

  “I…” Her throat worked, and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. “I don’t know what to say. It’s so thoughtful of you, and… and… I’ll cherish it always.” She set the pot on Wes’s desk, then brushed her fingers over the bumpy shells. “Thank you.”

  And then she was in his arms. He wasn’t sure how she got th
ere. One moment she was standing by the desk, and the next, her arms were around his back, squeezing him so tight the air rushed from his lungs.

  “I can’t believe you thought to do this for me.” She buried her face in his chest, much like Anna Mae did when she was upset.

  He rubbed her back in a soothing motion. He was not going to think about the way Charlotte fit perfectly into his arms, or how his heart thundered with her pressed up against him, or how her faint scent teased his nostrils. “It’s nothing to get worked up about. You can find those cacti everywhere around here. The seashell pot just happened to be luck.”

  “But you thought of me when you saw it, thought of me and went through the trouble of transplanting a cactus, all because you cared about a conversation we had.”

  She raised her face from where it had been nestled in the crook of his neck and looked up. Heaven help him, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and with her arms still locked around his back, her tall height meant that their lips were only an inch or two apart.

  His breaths came high and tight, and his chest suddenly burned, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from lowering his head until their lips met.

  Sweetness exploded on his tongue. She tasted of sunshine and desert and punch and unending innocence. He brought a hand up to rest on her cheek, savoring the softness of her skin before he tilted her chin up and to the side. Her mouth moved tentatively beneath his, and she sighed, then slid one of her hands off his back and up along his shoulder.

  How many times had he dreamed of standing in this very position with Charlotte, doing this very thing? How many times had he hoped Charlotte would return just a fraction of the feelings he harbored?

  And now she was in his arms, returning more than he’d ever hoped. If only…

  He pulled his head back with a sudden jerk, then stepped away from her so quickly she lost her grip on him.

  What had he just done?

  “I’m sorry.” The words rasped from a place deep inside him.

  “I’m not.” Charlotte took a step forward, pressed onto her tiptoes, and grazed her mouth against his.