Did Wes know Sarah better than Colin thought? Had she become used to a finer lifestyle he had no way of providing? The fact she’d walked away from her family to honor her promise to him, found a job in town, and lived a frugal life told him what mattered to Wes held no meaning for her.
“If you’ve ever had a long, serious conversation with Sarah, I believe you’d find what’s important to her isn’t wealth or position. She’s a passionate woman, expecting love and commitment from the man she marries. A good part of me believes those are unknown concepts to you, Bell.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Colin leaned forward, one hand moving to the butt of his gun, the other gripping the glass of whiskey. “I doubt you plan to provide her with either love or fidelity.”
The air thickened between them as tension grew. Both men held the other’s gaze, neither wavering. Without warning, Wes leaned back, opened his mouth, and let out a belly churning laugh, garnering the attention of many in the packed saloon.
“You know me, yet you don’t, MacLaren. I don’t know a whit about love. And being faithful? In truth, it would come hard for me. What I can offer is what, over time, strengthens a marriage, regardless of archaic traditions. Money and power. Those are what will make a marriage successful.”
Colin heard his chair scrape against the rough wooden floor as he pushed away. “It’s been a fascinating discussion, Bell. Thanks for the whiskey.”
“Sit down, MacLaren. We’re not finished.”
“I believe we are.” Standing, Colin picked up his hat.
“Five minutes more. I think you’ll find it quite worth your time.” Wes’s smug expression riled Colin, although his curiosity had him reclaiming his seat.
“Five minutes. No more.”
Refilling their glasses, Wes set the bottle down.
“As I mentioned, I’m a man of considerable means. My father and Sarah’s are quite set on this union.” Reaching into his pocket, Wes pulled out a pouch, setting it in the middle of the table. “You’ll find there is perhaps more money in that than you’ve ever seen in your life. And that’s just one. There are nine more waiting for you when you ride out of town.”
Sarah told Colin how Wes thought, warned him not to be surprised if he tried to bribe him to leave. Even her caution hadn’t prepared him for the anger raging through him at the insult. Fisting his hands on his thighs, he counseled himself to stay calm, even though every instinct in him vibrated to reach across the table, grab Wes by the collar, and beat the breath right out of him.
“Think of it. You’ll return to your ranch unencumbered by marriage, with wealth beyond what you could accumulate through years of toil. Your family will welcome you for bringing back true riches and not another mouth to feed.” Placing a hand against the pouch, he pushed it forward. “Take it, MacLaren. The rest will be ready when you ride out.”
Colin’s jaw tightened and his nostrils flared, his eyes sparking in contempt. Forcing calm, he grabbed the bag and flung it back at Wes.
“I fear you have misjudged me, Bell. My love for Sarah has no monetary value. It’s based on what I hold dear and which you hold in little esteem. Take your money. Use it to buy the affections of another woman. Sarah is mine.” Tipping his chair backward in his haste to stand, Colin cast one more menacing look at Wes. “A word of caution. Do not go anywhere near Sarah, Geneen, or my family. I don’t want them breathing the same air as you.”
Pushing his hat down, he slammed the doors open, and stepped into the fresh air. Taking a deep breath, Colin began the process of ridding himself of Wes’s words and disgusting proposal. Walking toward the clinic, he sent a silent prayer for Quinn’s quick recovery. They needed to leave as soon as possible. The more distance between them and Bell, the safer Sarah would be, and the better he’d sleep.
“How is he?” Colin put a hand on Brodie’s shoulder as he peered at Quinn.
“He’s woken twice. Each time, the eejit tries to get up, then falls back. Doc says he’ll tear the stitches and get an infection if he doesn’t stay down. If he rests, Doc says we could move him to the hotel in a few days, but he’ll need at least two more weeks before he can ride. Longer, if at all possible.” Brodie noticed the grim expression on Colin’s face. “What’s going on?”
Colin grabbed a chair, lowering his weary body onto it before dragging a hand down his face. “Wes Bell tried to bribe me into leaving Sarah behind.”
“Sonofabitch,” Brodie murmured, shaking his head at the man’s bold stupidity. “Can’t imagine what you might have told him.” He chuckled, figuring he knew exactly how Colin would have responded.
“He got the message.”
“How much?” Brodie asked, brow raised.
“Did he offer me? Hell, I don’t know for certain. He tossed out a bag full of coin and told me nine more would be waiting when we left without Sarah.” A grim smile passed over Colin’s face.
“Some men aren’t cut out to be human. It takes someone special to act that low.” Standing, Brodie stretched his arms above his head. “I could use a drink. You?”
“You go ahead, but keep watch for Bell. He’s got a man with him and I doubt he’s in a mood to be sociable right now.”
“I won’t be gone long.” Pulling the door open, he turned back toward Colin. “I suppose we could get a wagon for Quinn. Might be better than a horse.”
“The hell it would.”
Brodie shut the door and walked back toward the bed at the sound of Quinn’s raspy voice.
“I’m ready to go now if someone will help me on my horse.”
Colin chuckled at the absurdity. “He’s talking crazy,” he said to Brodie. “Has the doc been giving him laudanum?”
“Matter of fact, he has. Still doesn’t excuse him for not using his brain, though.” Brodie’s words were harsh, although full of relief. “You still with us, Quinn?”
Eyes flickering open, he nodded. “Aye, I’m here. Any whiskey in this place?”
“You’ll get water and nothing else.” Colin supported his head as Brodie held the glass to his lips. “No alcohol, cards, or women for you until you heal, lad.”
Sucking in a labored breath, he winced in pain. “Then I’d better get to it…”
“Damn fool. He should’ve taken the money. It’s more than any man could refuse.” Wes had finished the bottle of whiskey, then stormed out of the saloon, climbing on his horse, and taking off without a word to Walt. It had taken his friend a good amount of time to catch up with him.
“Well, he didn’t, and I can’t say as I’m surprised. The man came here for one purpose—to claim Sarah after years of waiting. He won’t be swayed by money.” Walt lit a cheroot, taking a long pull on the thin cigar. “You can have any woman you want, Wes. Put her behind you.”
Wes rode in silence. The fact MacLaren couldn’t be bought weighed on him. No man had ever refused him. Yet, as he came to terms with not winning the prize he coveted, he now felt a sense of freedom to move on. He’d tethered himself to Sarah after agreeing with Dougal to marry her.
His father and Sarah’s pushed for the union. He wanted to please both men, gaining access to MacGregor’s land. Pride had also been a factor, especially when she’d turned him down in such a public way, then continued to refuse his requests to court her. He didn’t often give up on something he wanted, but nothing could be gained by continuing his pursuit.
He’d done all he could. Walt was right. It was time to move on. Besides, Dougal had no sons who’d inherit his ranch. Sarah and Geneen would both leave with the MacLarens, and from what Wes knew, the youngest daughter, Isla, had no interest in the ranch. There would be other ways to get the land without entering into a marriage of convenience.
“Short of killing the man, I’ve done all I can. I won’t win this battle. Let them go and to hell with them both. I’ve got choices and Rhoda waiting at home.”
Walt threw out a disgusted curse. “You listen to me. Don’t you go seeing that woman again. Rhod
a offers nothing good and all kinds of trouble. You’ve stayed away since your pa got home and there’s no sense going back now.”
Arguing would do nothing at this point. He’d do what he wanted, no matter his friend’s concern. “Sure, Walt. Time to forget both Sarah and Rhoda.”
Taking a detour they used many times, they arrived at the Bell Ranch to learn Fergus had plans to leave in a few days.
“I’ll be gone at least a week, maybe longer. I know you’ll take good care of the ranch while I’m gone and keep a careful watch on Rhoda. All right, Wes?” Fergus looked up from his desk as he said the last.
“Sure, Pa. Don’t I always?”
“That’s what I hear.” Fergus fought the gnawing ache in his gut. He’d been betrayed by both his wife and the son he counted on to continue the Bell legacy. The death of his first wife years before had almost killed him. He’d become older, yet no wiser in trusting those close to him. “You’re welcome to come with me, meet some of the ranchers up north.” Reaching out in this last effort, he hoped Wes would agree.
“Another time, Pa. There’s a lot to be done before the weather turns, and I don’t want to leave it all to the men.”
“Whatever you think best.” Fergus walked around his desk to the table holding a decanter of whiskey. He poured two glasses, handing one to Wes. Holding his in the air, he tilted it in salute. “To continued growth and new beginnings.”
If Wes thought it an odd toast, he said nothing, returning his father’s salute, then swallowing the drink in one gulp.
“I’m beat. Guess I’ll head to bed. Night, Pa.”
Fergus watched him leave, closing the door behind him, and felt a heaviness in his heart he knew would never fade and time would never heal. “Goodnight, son.”
Chapter Thirteen
“What the hell are you doing?” Hands on hips, Colin stared at Quinn as he struggled to fasten his trousers. It had been almost two weeks since the shooting, a little over one since the doctor released him to stay at the hotel, and each day had been a test of wills to keep Quinn from pulling the stitches loose.
“Getting out of here, and don’t you be trying to stop me,” he growled. After another minute of fighting the buttons, he turned a frustrated expression toward Colin. “Help me with these.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Colin finished closing the shirt, then stepped back, his head tilting.
“The saloon for a drink. After that, I don’t know, but I’m not coming back here until I’m ready.”
Crossing his arms, Colin considered another option. “I have a better idea. I’ll get Brodie and the three of us will take a ride. We need to know how you’ll do on Warrior so we can decide how soon we can leave.”
Slamming his hat on his head, Quinn nodded. “Let’s go.”
Brodie took over saddling Warrior when Quinn couldn’t get the leverage needed to swing it over the horse’s back.
“I’ll do that.” He pushed Brodie’s hands away to finish cinching, then grabbed the bridle. Using his good right arm to mount from the other side, he slumped before forcing his spine to straighten.
“You ready, Quinn?” Colin studied him for any signs it may be too soon.
“More than ready.” Nudging his horse forward, he reined it around and headed out of town.
They followed the stream to a spot where it joined the river. Taking their time, an hour passed, then another before Quinn showed signs of fatigue.
Brodie spoke first, knowing Quinn would never admit to being tired. “It’s been a while, lads. I need a rest.” He reined Hunter to a stop under a wide maple and slid from the saddle. Stretching, he glanced up at Quinn, his mouth twisting into a grin. “Need some help?”
Quinn shot him a venomous look. “Not from you.” Dismounting in slow, somewhat jerky motions, he swiped the sweat from his brow and took a few unsteady steps. “Now, if you were a beautiful woman…”
“Don’t be rushing it. I’m guessing it’ll take longer to continue some activities than others.” Colin’s smirk had Brodie laughing.
Stepping up to Quinn, Brodie rested a hand on his good shoulder. “You shouldn’t fret about it. You’ve got plenty of time to get back to your old self by the time we get home.”
“Off with you,” Quinn growled, shrugging off Brodie’s arm. Drinking from his water pouch, he slid it back in his saddlebag. “How soon can we leave?”
“Sarah’s last day at school is Friday. Any time after that.” Colin studied him, knowing Quinn would push it. “She and Geneen will need time to pack. Middle of next week is soon enough, but the doctor has to agree to the trip first.” That would give Quinn almost another week.
“I don’t need him to tell me when I’m good to ride. It’s my decision, not his.”
Colin stepped up to within inches of him. “We all agree or we don’t go. We’ll have two women with us and several hundred miles to cover. You need to have all your strength back, not just enough to start the trip. Brodie and I don’t have time to nursemaid you along the way.”
His eyes narrowing, Quinn stared at Colin as heat rose in his face. They needed to leave before the weather turned and he wouldn’t be the one to hold them up.
“Fine. You get the girls ready to leave by next week. I’ll see the doc and get his blessing. Then we’ll not talk of it again.”
“How about we ride into town with the men? It’s been a long week and I’m ready to relax.” Walt pulled on a clean shirt, then his boots. “Wouldn’t hurt you to get away.”
Wes had stopped by the bunkhouse before walking up to his own place. Most Saturday nights, he’d go into town with the others. Tonight, though, he needed something else. “You boys go ahead. I think I’ll grab supper and get to bed early.”
Walt’s gut clenched at the announcement, knowing Rhoda was alone in the house. Since Fergus left the week before, he’d kept a close watch on Wes. As far as Walt knew, Wes had kept his distance, sleeping in the bunkhouse most nights without making the journey to his own place.
Looking around at the others, Walt lowered his voice. “Don’t be thinking you’ll get one more chance at Rhoda while Fergus is away. You’ve kept out of her room for several weeks now and there’s no reason to take the chance. Put her behind you for good and come with us.”
“You worry too much. I have no plans to see her again.” Wes stood, grabbing his hat. “I’m heading to bed.” Stepping outside, he considered stopping at the big house, then thought better of it. He’d stuck with his decision to stay away from her while his father had been out of town, yet it hadn’t been easy.
Within minutes of entering his house, he sat in a large chair, a glass of whiskey in his hand, the half-full bottle on a table a few inches away. He’d come to terms with MacLaren showing up for Sarah, deciding her leaving didn’t bother him as much as his damaged pride. Being rebuffed in such a public way had stung, but he’d soothed the embarrassment by bedding Rhoda. Her warm body and experienced ways never failed to provide the comfort he sought. The fact it didn’t last long didn’t bother him. She had nowhere to go, and despite his decision to the contrary, he knew she’d still make herself available whenever his pa left the ranch.
This time, however, something kept him away…at least until he swallowed the third glass of whiskey. Becoming restless, he paced around the small room, fighting the urge to forget his earlier resolution. He drank one more shot of whiskey, then stalked outside. Seeing the light on in Rhoda’s bedroom, Wes took slow paces toward the ranch house, cursing himself with each step. Fueled by alcohol, his raging desire replaced common sense. One last time, he told himself, then I’ll be done with her.
Climbing the stairs, he glanced around, satisfied his father hadn’t returned home without his knowledge. Stopping outside her door, he took a deep breath, then pushed it open, his mouth tilting up in an appreciative smile.
Rhoda lay on top of the bed, wearing his favorite lace dressing gown with the wide, pink sash closed at the waist. His eyes darkened, knowi
ng she wore nothing under it.
“You’re ready for me, I see.” Closing the door behind him, he wasted no time stripping off his shirt.
“You shouldn’t be here, Wes. Remember your words the last time?” Rhoda’s heart beat faster as he continued to undress, showing off his hard, lean muscles. “You were right. It isn’t right for us to continue. What of your father?”
“He’s gone. No one is in the house except you and me.” He moved to the edge of the bed.
“And the housekeeper.”
“Even if she found out about us, she’d say nothing.” He leaned across the bed toward her. “Come here, Rhoda. We both know he can’t give you what you need.”
Jumping out on the other side of the bed, she held up a hand when he walked toward her.
“No, Wes, we can’t. We never should’ve started this. Your father is my husband.”
Chuckling, he stalked forward until he had her trapped in a corner of the bedroom. Gripping her behind the neck, he hauled her to him, lowering his mouth to within inches of hers. “That’s not what you said when you kept offering yourself to me, encouraging me to take what I wanted. Are you saying you never wanted it?” He didn’t wait for an answer before crushing his mouth to hers, letting his hands wander up and down her back, feeling the heat rising off her almost naked body.
So lost in the feel of her, Wes didn’t hear the footsteps behind him. His only warning was a feral growl before a strong hand gripped his shoulder, spinning him around, a fist connecting with his jaw. Spiraling backward, Wes slammed against the wall. He hadn’t recovered when another blow crushed his nose, the sound of breaking bones and cartilage loud enough for Rhoda to react with a shrill scream.
Lifting his arms to defend against the punishing blows, Wes gazed up to see his father, rage and hate on his face, standing over him. Grabbing Wes by his shirt, Fergus pulled him up, sending another smashing blow to his face. Letting him drop to the ground, Fergus kicked him in the stomach and ribs, not letting up when Wes begged him to stop.
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