by Caroline Lee
Cora wasn’t one to let things go either. “Did you seduce his mother?” she asked, quicker than she had a right to. “I mean, I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t rape her, and if you were half as handsome then as you are now, you wouldn’t need— I mean, uh…”
Surprise at her commentary caused him to rein in his horse, to watch with hooded eyes as her animal picked its way alongside, before she managed to halt it next to him. He stared at her a long moment, not sure what to think.
Had she really just called him handsome?
He knew some women found his meticulousness attractive, but that was only in comparison to the cowboys they knew; men who didn’t care if they wore dirty clothes or were unshaven and unbathed.
Finally, he frowned slightly. “I have never harmed a woman. And I was more fit then. Presumably that means more attractive.”
She burst into laughter, and he admired how easily she could share that side with him. She sat languid and easy in the saddle, and smiled at him like he’d told a magnificent joke.
“Impossible,” she said in that teasing tone of hers. “I mean, Lucas is handsome and all, but you’re gorgeous. And more than fit, Verrick, trust me.”
What? He blinked. “I do not smile.”
If possible, her smile grew even wider. “I know. You’ve got that ‘scary bad boy’ thing most women find irresistible.”
Most women? Well, she had tried to kiss him that morning. “I’m an old man.”
She lifted her finger and waggled it at him—actually waggled it at him, as if she were his school teacher! “You’re forty, right? I’m only eleven years younger. In fact, most people consider me an old maid.”
“You are not old.” If he were the kind of man to notice beauty in a woman, she would be beautiful. But he wasn’t.
Right?
She leaned towards him slightly. “Neither are you, Verrick,” she whispered, but the way her eyes twinkled told him she was thinking something…lascivious.
She was the one to twitch her reins and click her horse into motion, sending him a secret smile he couldn't identify. He was content to let her lead the way, occasionally calling out direction changes as he rode behind, pondering his reaction to her. He didn't understand her, plain and simple. But that was no surprise... There had been plenty of times in his life he hadn't understood why people did or said things they’d done or said. Perhaps he been out of society for too long. It should have been no surprise women made even less sense than they always did.
But this woman...? He didn't understand Cora in a way he hadn't understood any woman before. And it wasn't just the way she looked at him and saw him, he didn't understand what she did to him. He spent the last few months trying to avoid her, not liking his reactions when she was around. But now he’d bitten the bullet, now he'd accepted his fate and allowed himself to be with her...
He found he quite liked her. And this was a complete surprise.
When was the last time he'd liked another woman? He didn't have to wonder long. It had probably been Laura Ryan.
Cora though, Cora was more intriguing, far more interesting than Laura had been. And she made him feel.
Perhaps not the best combination.
As they crested a hill, he heard her suck in a gasp as she pulled her horse to a stop. He hadn’t seen any signs of pursuit, and had been diligently watching for danger, but all he heard were cattle up ahead. So he took his time picking his way to her side.
It was the herd which had caught her attention, and glancing at her—seeing her bright eyes and avid smile as she watched the grazing creatures—he wondered at her joy.
But he didn’t have to wonder long.
“They’re magnificent, aren’t they?” she breathed.
“They’re cows.”
She glanced at him, then giggled. A genuine giggle, as if she were a little girl. Was she laughing at him?
“I know. But the sky and the green and these little dots of brown— There’s so many of them.” Her voice had turned speculative, and Verrick wondered if she was considering painting them. “I’ve seen herds before, obviously, but this is just…lovely.”
Verrick frowned slightly, his eyes darting among the cattle for signs of a rider. Were they out here without supervision? Possibly, but he didn’t want to take a chance.
“Who do they belong to?” Cora seemed content to sit there for hours. “Whose land are we on?”
He didn’t have to guess; Verrick’s sense of direction and spatial awareness had never been wrong. “This was Pierce’s land, but Augustus King owns the cattle now.” The man was a liar and a cheat, but he did know cattle. “He purchased them from the bank. Technically, Lucas was Pierce’s heir, since the agreement made between Pierce and Thomas Ryan was never revoked and Peirce had no other heir, but I advised him against it.”
Lucas might not have been the man to actually kill Pierce, but his involvement was undeniable.
Cora sent him a teasing look. “And you’re an expert on the law now?”
Another man might’ve frowned, but Verrick had spent too many years being calm and detached to be bothered. “I studied in my youth.”
“What?” She swung around to face him, the cattle apparently forgotten. “Really?”
“Why does that surprise you?” he asked as he turned his horse away, gesturing for her to follow.
They’d circle well around the herd, just in case there was a rider nearby. Baker’s attention was the only one he wanted to attract right now.
His, and possibly Cora’s.
A few minutes went by before she spoke again from behind him. “I don’t know why it surprised me. You clearly are an educated man, with plenty of unexpected talents. I’ll bet you sing beautifully too, don’t you?”
“I’ve never tried,” he said blandly.
“No, of course not.” There was a smile in her voice. “But I guess I just see you as a man of action. Always moving, graceful as a big cat. A panther, maybe.”
A cat?
Verrick was flustered by her comparison, and that bothered him as well. He was Verrick. He didn’t get flustered. That was what he was known for.
Being around Cora was bad for his health.
He felt off, and maybe it was that feeling which made him snap, “I didn’t always want this life, you know.”
Calm detach focus.
He took a deep breath. He’d snapped? When was the last time he’d even spoken in anger? He couldn’t recall; she brought out the worst in him.
No, that wasn’t true. She made him feel, and he didn’t like it.
It hadn’t seemed to bother her though. “What kind of life did you want, Verrick?” she asked quietly.
Verrick’s gaze swept the grass around them, watching for signs of Baker or any others. What kind of life had he wanted? He was good at what he did, yes, and he’d achieved satisfaction at his successes. But this hadn’t always been what he’d imagined himself doing.
“The same things every man wants, I suppose,” he admitted quietly. “Wife. Children.” He swallowed thickly. “Grandchildren,” he whispered.
He’d never known Lucas as a child; it had been necessary for Laura’s plans. And he’d been so young, so the loss hadn’t bothered him much, especially not with the life he’d been leading.
But the last few months, getting to know his son as a man, seeing the strong, resilient, honorable person Lucas had grown into…it had meant more to Verrick than he’d expected. Seeing Lucas and Shannon safe and happy had been imminently satisfying. It had made him remember the things he’d wanted for himself when he’d been so much younger, before he’d come west to the Montana Territory.
And now, Shannon was carrying his grandchild. A baby, whom he might never know, if he couldn’t eliminate Baker’s threat to Sunset Valley.
Cora nudged her horse up beside him as they rode. “And a home?”
He didn’t know what she was talking about, and his stare told her as much.
She chuckled.
“I love your way with words, Verrick.” Before he could comment on her teasing, she hurried on, “I mean, you listed what you once wanted: a wife, children. But what about a home? Someplace for that family, someplace to celebrate holidays like Christmas?”
A home? Some place to return to each day, where a man knew he was welcomed and valued? No, some place where his enemies would be able to find him. Some place which would grow boring, the same four walls which didn’t change.
He’d tried to have a home once, twenty-two years ago. It hadn’t worked.
He kicked his horse into a canter, moving in front of her once more. “We were speaking of childhood ideals.”
It was easier to speak to her if he couldn’t see her expression. Her mouth, and the memory of that kiss, were too distracting.
Focus.
“Oh, you were a child once? Where?”
Ignoring the joke, he answered the question. “Minnesota.”
“And did you have a first name back in Minnesota?” she asked teasingly.
His lips tightened slightly as he thought. It had been so long since he’d stopped using whatever name his mother had given him…John? James? It was hard to say. Thirty years of detachment and focus meant the non-essential, unimportant things had been discarded.
Verrick shrugged. “I do not believe it matters.”
“Fair enough,” she immediately responded. “I don’t think I could picture you as anyone other than just Verrick anyhow. You’re definitely not a Millard. Or a Steve. Verrick is perfect.”
She’d managed to surprise him again. Since he’d come west as a boy, there hadn’t been a single woman he’d spent time with—including Lucas’s mother—who hadn’t tried to determine whatever given name he might’ve once had.
But of course, Cora would be different.
Trying to distract both of them, he offered another piece of his history.
“I was the child of farmers, and when blight ruined them and their livelihood, my ideals changed.” He’d been so young, but even then he’d known he didn’t think as other men did. He’d known he had a talent and a drive to use it.
“So you no longer want a home?”
“I never did.” It was the truth. He’d always known he would wander. “I am not like you, meant to settle in one place and have a home. I am meant to drift.”
She didn’t respond. In fact, she said little the rest of the day. That evening they made camp in relative silence in a copse, and he found he missed her teasing, which was a surprise. He found himself thinking of that little brown sketchbook, and the portraits she’d done of him. After spending this time with him, did she still see him with that unbelievable smile, or something harder, icier?
And which did he prefer?
After dinner, he settled against a fallen log and watched her shake out her bedroll. But instead of spreading it out on the other side of the fire, she carried it over beside him.
It wasn’t until she laid the blankets beside him and the log that he guessed her intentions, but still he didn’t move, and just waited to see if his assumption was correct
She settled against the log beside him, her legs stretched out alongside his towards the fire. Had she done it for warmth? She’d obviously been cold last night, but was that—
And that’s when she laid her cheek against his shoulder.
Verrick froze, his muscles tense at the unexpected touch. Was she…was she resting on him? Was she that cold? Tired? Sore?
He realized he was frantically trying to come up with how to make it better for her, but she hadn’t asked anything of him. When it came to Cora, all his careful control left him.
What is this woman doing to me?
“You’re wrong, you know.”
Her comment, out of the blue like that, confused the hell out of him. Could she read his mind? Did she think he was wrong for wanting to comfort her, or for thinking she was ruining his control?
“You said I’m meant to settle in one place and have a home. You’re wrong.”
He didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t.
After a long moment, where she seemed to be waiting for him to speak, he felt her exhale heavily and settle more firmly against his shoulder. And then, because apparently he wasn’t shocked enough, she reached over and took his hand.
His hands had been resting on his thighs when she’d approached, and he’d even been considering digging out his gloves for warmth that evening. But now, she placed her hand on top of his, flipped his over, and pressed her palm against his own.
He tamped down on his instinct to flinch away, and slowly exhaled as she twined her fingers through his.
It wasn’t…bad.
Sure, he’d touched women before. He’d kissed women before. But those women, with the possible exception of Laura Ryan, had been tools really. He’d had a need, a problem which had to be fixed, and those women were there. But Cora? Cora was like an itch. A lavender-and-lemon-scented itch in the center of his palm, which he couldn’t reach because she was holding him.
Experimentally, he pressed his palm closer to hers, just to see if that itch would go away. Instead, it spread throughout his body, making his skin twitch and his pulse pound. She was the itch, and she was inside him somehow.
He stared down at their joined hands resting on his thigh and wondered how to stop it. Wondered if he even wanted to stop it. Being with Cora made him feel like a different man, and he didn’t like it. But he was honest enough to admit he was intrigued by the concept.
How could one woman change someone so much, seemingly without intent? How could a woman look at him and see a man who could smile the way she’d drawn him?
He was intrigued, yes, but that was it. Being with her made him different, made him itchy…
But it wasn’t bad.
And as he slowly relaxed, mentally cataloging the night sounds so he’d be able to catch a few hours’ sleep, he wondered if he was letting down his guard. And if he did, would that be a problem?
Long after her breathing had evened out and her head had lolled back against the log, Verrick was able to admit it to himself.
This wasn’t bad. Not at all.
Chapter Five
Traveling with Verrick was everything Cora had hoped it would be. She’d learned more about being out in nature, just by watching him, than she had during her wanderings alone. And she was seeing things differently too. When he took a particular trail or spent time studying the mountainside before committing, she was learning how he thought. And because of that, she began seeing the mountain and the trail and the stream and even the soaring eagle, clearly.
She was seeing them for the first time.
Verrick had a different way of viewing the world, and even if he hadn’t realized it, she appreciated he was sharing it with her. It wasn’t like being out on the trail with him had suddenly made him loquacious and gregarious, but he was opening up to her.
Today was the second morning she’d awakened in his camp, but this time, she was with him. She might’ve regretted not taking the chance to spread out on her bedroll, but waking up pressed against his side, her hand still twined with his on her lap… Well, she would never regret that.
An entire night by his side, and he hadn’t let go of her hand? Or had he, and then he’d taken it once more? Both thoughts were equally thrilling, because they meant he wanted to hold her hand, and that made Cora’s smile particularly bright this morning.
It made the whole world bright this morning.
Maybe something had changed yesterday after he’d been willing to tell her a little about his childhood. Or maybe it had been when she’d told him she’d always felt compelled to wander. Whatever it was, he was more open with her now than he’d ever been. He answered her questions—not at length, but not rudely—and when she touched him, he didn’t flinch away.
They stopped at noon to eat a few pieces of jerky, and while she sketched intriguing parts of the landscapes they’d seen that morning, Cora couldn’t he
lp the peace she was feeling. She tipped her hat back, closed her eyes and craned her neck, smiling at the feel of the autumn sun on her face. She inhaled deeply, glad beyond measure she’d taken the chance to follow Verrick away from the ranch.
And yet…
“We’re heading south, aren’t we?” she asked softly.
Beside her, Verrick grunted in agreement.
After months of roaming the hills surrounding the ranch, Cora thought she knew the area well enough to guess what was happening. “Yesterday we were headed east, the same direction you rode away from Sunset Valley. Are we avoiding some place, or circling back towards Black Aces?”
When he didn’t answer right away, Cora lowered her head once more to put the final touches on the sketch, then peeked over at him. He was watching something in the distance, something small and low to the ground.
Without looking away from his quarry, he stood and crossed to where his horse was munching on grass. As he unstrapped his rifle from the scabbard on his saddle, he answered her.
“I haven’t seen any sign of Baker, which means either he’s much better than I expected him to be, or he hasn’t picked up the trail yet. We initially led him away from the ranch, which is what matters.”
For all that he protested he didn’t want a home, Verrick certainly seemed to care what happened at Sunset Valley. Of course, she’d always known he had a heart beating beneath that gorgeous, icy cold black perfection. Verrick’s months at the ranch had shown he cared deeply about his son. And the way he was sharing information on this adventure, well, maybe she’d be able to learn a little more about the elusive man.
Verrick took a few steps to the top of a little rise, then lowered himself carefully to the ground. It was impressive how deliberate and carefully he moved, flowing out of the landscape itself. As he stretched prone, Cora compared his flawless black trousers to the pair of Lucas’s denims she was wearing. How had she managed to get them so dirty so quickly, when Verrick looked as if he’d just stepped out of a bathhouse?
The Winchester boomed across the valley, and Verrick’s smooth movements as he worked the lever to chamber another round were like poetry in motion. He fired twice more, then rolled to his feet while the echo of his shots were still bouncing off the distant mountains.
