Fire Brand

by Diana Palmer

  Tuesday had to be the most awful day in the week, she thought as she got used to being on her feet all day helping to paste copy onto the sheets, ran back and forth to help answer the phone, and talked to customers who wanted to place ads, pull ads, or provide news.

  “What’s this?” Harvey demanded just after lunch, when he joined the others in the composing room to help lay in ads. He was reading the front page, and his broad face was red. “Who did this?” he demanded. “This was a story I meant to get for next week!”

  “It would have been old news by next week,” Gaby explained. “I had the time, you didn’t, so what difference does it make who actually did the legwork? Aren’t we a team here?”

  “That’s right, Harvey,” Bob said calmly as he used the scissors carefully on a newly set up want ad. “No sweat.”

  Harvey glared at Gaby’s byline on the story, and then glared at her. “I don’t think there’s enough news in this little town for two reporters,” he said icily.

  “You’d be surprised how much there is,” Bob replied. “Now stop bristling, Harvey. You aren’t going to be out of a job just because I hired Gaby. She’ll be doing a lot of things you hate anyway, like all that controversial stuff.”

  Harvey shifted irritably. “I suppose I’ll be stuck with obituaries and politics for the rest of my life.”

  “Of course not,” the boss assured him. “I’ve been thinking of adding a sports page. You could cover football games.”

  The heavy man actually flushed. “I hate sports.”

  “It was just a thought.” Bob smiled and stared at the man until Harvey muttered something conciliatory and began pasting up copy.

  But it was a rough beginning, and it got worse. Gaby found herself fighting for every bit of news she got. Harvey always seemed to know what she was going to do, and got there first. Since he knew the town and all the public officials, it was understandable that he had the edge. Gaby was left with the police beat and not much more. Not that weekly papers seemed to have beats, like big-time papers did. And the jobs were interchangeable—she had to set her own copy in type, and help Judy when she was overworked, handle subscriptions, bag and wrap papers in the back every Wednesday for mailing, take ads over the phone, and even rush out to take photos when they were needed. She wound up taking a lot of pictures of giant vegetables and wrecks while Harvey got pics of visiting dignitaries, beauty queens, and fires. Harvey, in fact, was giving her fits.

  “He’ll adjust to you,” Bob said quietly when she finally complained about it, after the second week at work. “Give him time.”

  “Must he fight me every step of the way?” she asked miserably. “I love this job, but he’s making it impossible for me to do it. Can’t we each have definite assignments, so that the divisions are clear?”

  Bob lifted a thin eyebrow. “There’s an idea. Okay. Give me a few days to work it out.”

  “Fine. Thanks!”

  After that, they each had clear-cut assignments, which made Harvey all the more irritating, and unsettled Gaby. He was the kind of reporter who’d look for things to dig up on people. She’d already overheard Harvey asking pointed questions about her connection with the McCaydes and her background. She felt a new kind of tension around him. He seemed like a vengeful man, and she had a feeling that he was going to cause her grief before he was through.

  Her home life wasn’t much better. Bowie had been in Tucson during the week and out of town most weekends since Aggie had been gone. At first Gaby thought it might be to preserve the conventions, but she began to realize that it was simply his old lifestyle. He was making no concessions whatsoever to being engaged. Ever since the newspaper story had come out, he’d been cold toward her. There had been no more mention of the future—even of an engagement ring. She began to think Aggie had been right about his motives.

  “The city council meets tomorrow night,” she mentioned over supper.

  “Again?” Bowie asked, barely glancing up from the legal document he was reading as Montoya put food on the table.

  “It’s been a month since their last meeting,” she replied.

  He looked up then, and his black eyes searched her face. She looked thinner, and there were circles under her eyes. He’d been so involved with work the past month, and so irritated at her public defection to the enemy camp, that he’d forced himself not to go near her. But now he was seeing her, for the first time in weeks, and he felt a twinge of guilt at the way she looked. Maybe she’d expected something more from their engagement. So had he, but the one time he’d made a move toward her physically she’d backed away, as if even being kissed was too disturbing to contemplate. He’d been overwhelmed with memories of what Aggie had said to him about Gaby only being infatuated, and it could be true. He was trying to find out if she really cared, without the enhancement of physical infatuation to blind her, but it hadn’t worked. Her bulldog attitude toward her work, her lack of loyalty to him, and even her physical reticence had combined to enrage him. He’d withdrawn from her, but now he felt bad about it. She was showing the effects of his coldness, and hurting her was the very last thing he wanted to do. Then he remembered, too, that he hadn’t even bought her a ring.

  “I’ve neglected you,” he said quietly.

  “Yes, I know.” She searched his eyes. “Something’s worrying you.”

  “A lot of things, honey.” He sat back. “Including your stories on the agricultural project. Do you really think they’re unprejudiced?”

  “They may seem slanted, I agree,” she said honestly, “but I’m honor bound to present both sides. I have to be objective.”

  “Well, I can’t be,” he said. “I still think there’s something not quite aboveboard about the whole operation. They leave out too many points in their explanations.”

  “I’m not blind,” she replied. “I’ve noticed the omissions. And I’m not just sitting on my hands ignoring them. Bowie, I’m a journalist,” she said steadily, her eyes on his. “I can’t take sides, even if I’d like to. I have an obligation to my paper and to my own conscience about the things I write. If I fail to do my job and people are hurt because of it, I have to live with that. I’m going to dig as deep as I can, as fast as I can, and if there’s anything shady about the operation, I’ll print what I find. So will Bob Chalmers. I know you don’t like him, but he’s a good newspaperman.”

  He relaxed a little. “Okay. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

  “It’s Aggie who really worries you, isn’t it?” she coaxed.

  He grimaced. “She didn’t say goodbye. I knew she was mad, but I didn’t think she felt that bitter. I was trying to protect her. I’ve had some difficulty expressing what I felt, but I never meant to hurt her. I guess I’ve left it too late.”

  “When she’s had time to think things out, she’ll come back and you can get it all straightened out,” she said.

  “Think so?” He sighed, dropping the subject. “What’s this garbage about a petition?” he asked suddenly.

  She blinked at the quick change of subject. “The Bio-Ag petition? Yes. I saw it. They’re presenting it at the city council meeting. Mayor White even asked if I was going to be there.” She grimaced. “They’re expecting a record turnout of voters.”

  “Of course they are. Crowds always gather at bloodlettings.”

  She knew about the latest death threat. Bowie hadn’t told her, but Montoya had. A deep, grizzly voice over the phone had threatened Bowie with a bullet and hung up before he had time to reply. He’d raged for half an hour before he had gone out to check fences with his foreman. He hated checking fences, and rarely did it. Mostly, he left the management of the ranch—only twenty-two thousand acres, and small by Arizona standards—to his foreman, Jeff Danvers. He was much more occupied with the construction business than he was with the cattle, although he did love the land passionately
.

  “What are you going to do if somebody tries to shoot you over this?” Gaby asked tightly.

  “Shoot back, of course,” he replied lazily. He leaned back in his chair to study her. “I carry a rifle in the pickup when I drive it, and I’ve got a .38 police special that I carry around in a holster when I’m out at night. I have a permit for it. You know that.”

  She knew what a dead shot he was, too, but that wouldn’t help if he was ambushed. This was wide open country and incredibly big, with open spaces where not a soul would be seen for miles. At night, it would be so easy to sit and wait for a particular vehicle to pass and slide a bullet through it.

  “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “What an odd way you have of showing it,” he returned with a cool smile.

  Her eyes ranged lovingly over the handsome angles of his face, lingering on his thick blond hair and deep-set black eyes. He delighted her in every way, but if he even wanted her these days, it didn’t show.

  “I’d better see if Tía Elena needs any help,” she said in a subdued tone, and got to her feet.

  “Sit down,” Bowie said curtly. “I’m getting pretty damned tired of having you run like a rabbit every time I come into a room.”

  Her eyes widened. “But I don’t,” she protested. “You’re never here!”

  “What would be the use?” he asked wearily. His eyes slid over her body with faint longing. “You don’t want me. You never have and you never will. You’re dead inside.”

  She knew it, but to hear him put it into words in such a way was devastating. She had to swallow down a knot of hurt anger before she could even speak.

  “You haven’t touched me, or even offered to, since the morning you asked me to marry you, Bowie,” she reminded him in a stiff, wounded tone. “Only once, and even that was because you seemed to think I was expecting it. You even said so.” She lowered her eyes. “I would have tried, you know. But it’s difficult for me to...to...” She made an expressive gesture with her hands and turned away. “It’s no use, is it? The engagement was all a sham, anyway, just like Aggie said it was, to keep me from opposing your stand on Casa Río.”

  She turned and left the room, her back ramrod straight, her heart worn and leaden in her chest.

  She went up to her room and stretched out on her bed with a long sigh. That should have done it, she thought. Now he’d have his inheritance back and he could stop pretending that he wanted to marry her. He was free.

  The door opened and closed again, and Bowie came and sat beside her on the bed.

  “I’ve gone about this all wrong,” he said quietly. “Perhaps you still don’t realize how difficult it is for a man to try and conduct a relationship with a woman who starts backing away the minute he touches her. I haven’t started anything because it’s painful when I have to draw back from you.” His black eyes fell to her body. “The wanting hasn’t stopped, Gaby, but I know you don’t want me. That’s not much of an incentive to do anything about our situation.”

  “I could try,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

  His eyebrows drew together as he caught her eyes. “Is that an invitation?”

  “It will have to be very slow,” she got out. “And you...when you lose control, I may fight you...” Her eyes closed. “But I’ll try.”

  “You’ll suffer me, isn’t that what you mean?” he asked coldly. He laughed. “Thanks. My ego can use that kind of boost.”

  “You don’t understand,” she bit off.

  “How can I, when you won’t tell me what happened?” he demanded. He glared at her. “I don’t read minds. So a boyfriend got out of control once and frightened you. So what? That happens to a lot of girls, but it doesn’t turn them into cakes of ice!”

  Her eyes closed. “I let you think that,” she replied. “But that wasn’t what happened.” She didn’t want to tell him, and she couldn’t tell him all of it, but she had to make him understand. “All right, Bowie. I’ll tell you.” She took a slow breath, aware of his stillness. “The man was the brother of my father’s boss,” she whispered, shocking him into listening. “He’d had his eye on me for a long time, and I was careful to keep out of his way. But one afternoon the bus broke down and I was late getting back from school because I had to walk from the main highway. He was waiting for me. He dragged me into the barn,” she choked, her face going white at the memory, “and pushed me down on the floor. It was dark, but I could smell the whiskey on his breath, and I knew he’d been drinking. He was as big as you are,” she continued, her voice shaking, “and strong. I fought and fought, but I couldn’t get away from him.” Tears ran down her cheeks, over their pale coolness. “He tore my clothes and touched me,” she cringed, her eyes closing as she shuddered. “He pinned me down with his body, and I knew then that I couldn’t stop him, that he was going to hurt me in that terrible way, and I screamed and screamed...”

  “Oh, my God.” Bowie felt sick at his stomach. He’d never suspected anything like this. He hadn’t imagined that a grown man had tried to assault her.

  “He was stopped in time,” she whispered hoarsely, trying to forget how he’d been stopped, trying not to see the blood that had been everywhere. “But I had nightmares for years afterward, and I couldn’t bear for a man to touch me, or hold me against my will. I still can’t. Only...only you,” she added, her wet eyes seeking his in the stillness. “When you touch me, it doesn’t make my skin crawl, and it’s so sweet to kiss you. I didn’t think I could ever do that with anyone, but it’s so natural with you.”

  She made him feel ashamed—of the way he’d treated her, of his lack of understanding.

  He reached down and drew her up, lifting her across his legs to hold her gently, her cheek pillowed on his hard chest, against the soft white silk of his open-necked shirt. “Why couldn’t you tell me this years ago?” he asked quietly.

  “I’ve never told anyone. And...that’s not all of it,” she whispered brokenly. “But I can’t tell you the rest.” Her voice broke and she wept helplessly. “I wanted to...to die!”

  His arms gently pulled her closer. His head bent against hers and his breath caught at the pain he could feel in her. “It’s all right,” he whispered huskily. “You’ve got me now. Nobody and nothing will ever hurt you as long as there’s a breath in my body!”

  He sounded as if he meant it, Gaby thought dazedly. And he didn’t sound angry anymore, at least. She closed her eyes, dabbing at them with her fist.

  “Here,” he said, drawing out a handkerchief for her. “What about your father, Gaby? Didn’t he do anything? Why did he let you run away, alone?”

  “There was nothing he could do,” she said miserably. And there hadn’t been; he’d done what was necessary. Then he’d given Gaby what little money he had, and he’d said they had to separate, so that their chances of getting away would be as good as possible. She’d cried and begged to go with him, but he’d been adamant. Just in case, he’d said, crying, too, it would make things bearable if he knew that she’d made it to safety. He had to have that hope. There was a cousin in Arizona; all she had to do was get out there. Her last sight of him had been blurred, because the tears hadn’t stopped. But people were already running back and forth, and sirens came shortly afterwards. There was no time to waste in protests. He’d gone out through the tobacco field at a dead run, and Gaby had run through the tall grass in the other direction toward the highway, everything she had left in the pocket-book she’d carried home from school. Inanely, she thought that her schoolbooks must have still been in the stable when the police came. She shivered.

  Bowie touched her hair gently, smoothing it away from her face. “You make me feel about two inches high,” he said quietly. “I thought it was a boyfriend who’d gone too far. I had no idea it was like that.”

  “He was a lecher,” she sobbed. “And he drank like a fish. He wa
s always after the young girls, when he wasn’t hanging around the bus stop. Everybody knew about him, and I was warned. But I just never thought anyone would try to do that to me—not even him. I’m not pretty.”

  “A man like that doesn’t look at a woman’s face,” he said shortly. His temper was aflame at the thought of how helpless she’d been. “He should have been shot! Do you know what happened to him after you left? We need to get in touch with the family.”

  “No!” She went stark white and sat up on his lap, her eyes wide with terror. “No, you can’t! I won’t tell you who they are, or where—I won’t...!”

  “Calm down.” He touched her mouth with his fingertips, his eyes speculative. “It’s all right, Gaby. I won’t do anything that you don’t want done. I just think it’s unfair that a man should be allowed to do something like that without being punished for it.”

  “It was ten years ago,” she hedged, lowering her frightened eyes. “It’s too late.”

  And it was, but not for the reason he thought. She shivered a little with reaction and dabbed at her eyes.

  “No wonder you’ve lived the way you have,” he said, his voice still and tender. “I used to be curious—about the way you dressed, your lack of boyfriends. Now it makes sense.”

  “I thought about going for therapy once,” she confessed. “But I couldn’t trust anyone enough to talk about it. Eventually, I decided that I’d just be an old maid.”

  “And then I took you out to supper,” he mused, smiling as he tilted her face up to his dark, quiet eyes. “And the world shifted ten degrees.”

  “You fascinated me,” she confessed softly, searching his face. “Everything about you. You always had, but lately,” she averted her eyes, “after I came down here, I started having these dreams about you.”