by Jillian Hart
"Here, this will help warm you up." Verbena ambled into the room gripping a small tray with her free hand. The china rattled with every step. "I brought you a tin mug, I hope that's okay. My sister Daisy's fiancé isn't much for china. He doesn’t like drinking out of flowery cups."
"I can't argue that." It just wasn't manly. He felt some relief realizing that rattling china cup wasn't for him. He strode across the room to take the tray from her. He breathed in a faint scent of strawberry from her hair and chocolate from the tray. Not only was a cupcake sitting on a little china plate, but there was a plate heaped with food.
"I thought you might be hungry too," she explained, ambling away from him. "You look as if you've already had a long day."
He didn't know what to say, so he nodded. He eased the tray down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had brought him a meal he hadn't ordered and paid for. He eased onto the overstuffed chair next to the couch, more than a little surprised by her kindness. She was busy reaching for her china cup full of steaming tea and taking a sip. This wasn't a big deal for her, he realized, she probably did this for everyone.
But it still touched him, deep in places he didn't let anything touch him. His heart was nothing but a cold stone beating inside his chest. But it felt this. Decent folks usually avoided him on the boardwalk, when they opened the door to him they made him stand in the foyer, they looked at him and saw a man as brutal as those he hunted.
He did not know what to think about Verbena McPhee. Few people surprised him.
"I don't know what your fee is, Mr. Reed." She studied him over the rim of her cup. "I don't care what it is. I'll gladly pay, as long as you can keep my sisters safe. Please catch Ernest before he hurts them again."
"You're worried about your sisters," he said quietly, reaching for the mug of tea. "Your sisters."
"Yes." Genuine agony cut across her features. No pretense, just the open fear and concern for someone other than herself. "They have endured so much because of me. Daisy was kidnapped the first time, Magnolia was taken both times. It could have gone differently, he could have killed them. This has all happened because of my choices. I'm responsible."
"Ernest Craddock is responsible." He blew on the steaming tea, studying her through his black lashes.
"I introduced him to them. I brought him into my family, a man who is truly dangerous." She eased back into the sofa cushions with slender grace. Her every movement, little and small, was like a slow waltz, with a beauty and a silent cadence that made you stop and watch. Her bruised face scrunched up with misery. "I love my sisters so much, and they are in danger because I believed his lies. I couldn’t see through to the real man beneath."
"A certain kind of man excels at that. I've seen it firsthand. It's a game to them, hiding their true nature. They've gotten so good at it, you can't see the real man until it's too late."
"Yes, it's exactly like that." Tea sloshed over the rim of her cup as she set it down on the tray. "Ernest came from a wealthy family. He was well thought of in the community, so when he paid me such sincere attention, it felt like a storybook romance coming true."
He had a certain opinion on romance, that it was make believe, but he kept his mouth shut. When she stared down at her hands, at the cuts and abrasions, the bruises at her wrists, her sadness got to him. It wrapped around his ribcage like a cinch and pulled tight.
"He started courting me and it seemed so unbelievable something that wonderful could happen to me." She shrugged once sadly. "I should have known. It was too good to be true."
"Most things are."
"You're a cynic, aren't you?" She tilted her head to get a better look at him.
"A realist. Smart enough to stay out of relationships." He gathered up the roast beef sandwich she'd made him and took a bite.
"That is my new motto. No more relationships." She peered toward one of the large windows at the green forest mantling the sharp rise of the nearby mountain. Snow covered those granite peaks like white frosting. "Relationships are not worth the risk."
"I agree completely." For a rare moment, his guarded gray eyes softened. Inside shone something that looked like hurt or sorrow, but it was hard to tell because it faded away so fast. Vanished, as if it had never been.
But Verbena knew one thing. She wasn't the only one who'd been hurt in this room. Zane Reed was the toughest, strongest man she'd ever seen. He looked as if he could chew on nails and wouldn't feel a thing.
But at heart, we are all the same, aren’t we? Vulnerable, easily broken, often scarred. She pushed off the couch, scrabbled for her cane and headed to the window. It drew her, probably because she felt him out there--Ernest. Somewhere out there in all that green, on that slope of snowy mountain, he was waiting and watching. He would not give up. He was scarred too, but she didn't feel sorry for him. Not anymore. He'd made his choice.
She would make hers.
"Catch him, at any cost." She splayed her fingers against the glass. Felt the cold and watched the rain sluice down the panes. Outside the deciduous trees had lost all their leaves, standing bared, their limbs like beseeching arms raised to an unforgiving sky. "I'm begging you, Mr. Reed."
"No begging necessary." His gravelly tone rang with certainty, held a harsh edge that made her shiver. He was a rough man, capable of using the guns he wore and the rifle he carried without remorse.
She ought to be afraid of him, but she wasn't. He radiated reliability. He'd keep his word, she knew it. She could feel it. That was what mattered to her. He would keep her sisters safe.
"What questions do you need to ask me?" she said, squaring her shoulders. The battle to find Ernest was on. She intended to win.
"I need to understand the personality of the man," the bounty hunter said around a mouthful of sandwich. "Anything you can tell me will be helpful."
"He hasn't been far from me since he kidnapped me." She wrapped her arms around herself, but it couldn't stave off the icy shiver that rippled through her soul. "He thinks I'm seeing all kinds of men, you know, when I'm at the mercantile or at church. He told me that he owns me. That I'm his. Like a possession."
"That fits with what I've learned about him. He's obsessed with you." Zane polished off the last bite of sandwich, stuffing it in like a hungry man. "I'm betting he's controlling. Selfish. Only cares about getting what he wants. Does not care who he hurts. He's a coward."
"Exactly. If he sees you coming for him, he will shoot first. He's learned to handle a gun, and he's with someone who knows how to hide, track and hunt." She turned around, studied the big man washing down the cupcake she'd put on the plate for him with the mug of tea. He dwarfed the chair, dominated the room. Long black hair tied at his nape, whisker-stubbed iron jaw, guns gleaming strapped to his muscled thighs. She remembered the glimpse of softness she'd seen in him, and caring tugged within her. Even though he was a stranger, she would never want anything to happen to him, especially for her sake.
"Promise me you'll be careful. Because I was wrong before." She cleared her throat, grasped her cane and faced him. Those wise gray eyes, the impact she felt from them carried the force of a blow. "I asked you to catch him at any cost. But that's not true. I don't want you to get hurt either."
"I see." A muscle jumped along his jaw line. He set the mug down with a clunk on the silver tray. He appeared to harden--the angles of him, the gray shade of his eyes, the edges of his mouth. As if she'd angered him.
But when he stood up, something gentle flashed in those stormy eyes. Just a flicker before it was gone.
"I'll head over to the bunkhouse and settle in. I have enough information to start with." He strode across the room like a part of the shadows, avoiding the light. He reached for his rifle. "If I need more answers later, we will meet again. You are the key in this. Craddock isn't going to stop until he gets you, and that's where I come in. I'll stop him. End of story."
"Thank you." The relief she felt could not be measured. S
he didn't know why she trusted this stranger, when she'd vowed never to trust another man again, but she did. "Do you need a partial payment or the full amount? I'll need to go to the bank first. Iris set each of us up with our own savings account."
"This won't cost you a dime." He turned his back to her, stalking out the library door and into the hall, spine straight, wide shoulders set. "This is a favor for Milo. Now do me a favor and stay away from the windows, would you?"
"Oh. Okay." She leaned on her cane, listening to his boots knell quickly and powerfully down the hallway to the front door. Somehow the room no longer felt empty, even with him gone.
Chapter Five
The woman lingered in his mind. Nothing seemed to stop it. He met Gil Blackburn, the second in command at the Rocking M, was introduced to several cowboys playing checkers by the pot-bellied stove in the front living area of the bunkhouse, and stowed his things in the empty bedroom at the end of the hall. All the while, images of Verbena McPhee pestered him. Of her bringing him a meal, showing concern for his safety, worried about the welfare of her sisters over herself. He couldn’t say why the woman got to him, dug like a blade in his chest and stayed there.
"I brought a lamp and a map of the ranch like you asked for." Gil Blackburn, a man about twenty-five, poked his head into the room and offered an affable grin. Gil had dark brown hair and an honorable, clean-cut way about him. He bounded in, eager to help. "Anything else you need, you just say the word. There isn't a man on this ranch that won't jump to help. After Craddock knifed Beckett the way he did, from behind in the back and left him to bleed out, we'd all like a piece of Craddock. Beckett's ran this ranch for a long time."
"Sorry to hear that. It must not be the way you wanted to wind up in charge of this ranch." Zane shucked his rucksack into the back of the narrow closet and pulled the curtain. "Heard you were in on both hunts for Craddock."
"Most of us were," Gil shrugged humbly, a hint of his honor showing. He set the lamp and rolled up piece of parchment on the desk in the corner, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a match tin. "This map covers every inch of this ranch, including the land behind the manor."
"Good." Just what he needed. Zane unrolled the parchment, anchoring it in the corner with one of his .45s. He scanned the lay of the acreage, the distance from the manor to the mountain range behind it, the number of line shacks marching around the far reaches of the property. "Which one was she found in?"
"That one, right behind the house a ways." Gil lit the lamp and shook out the match. "He was holed up there in the summer, not long after the girls settled into the manor."
"Milo told me." He nodded, thinking. Remembering the sheriff's tale of chasing Craddock's trail up the mountain--two different times. "He really doesn't stay too far away from Verbena."
"We've been on his trail a couple of times lately." Gil grabbed the door stopper and used it to anchor the other corner of the map. "Most of the snow's melted by now, but at least the mud is good for tracking."
"I didn't know anyone was trying to hunt him." Zane rubbed his chin. "Milo didn't mention it."
"Probably because he hasn't had much success. Neither have we." Gil leaned back against the log wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "We caught a trail two days ago along the back side of the house, between the garden and the orchard. It trailed around the house and into the underbrush."
"Here?" Zane tapped the map. "That looks close."
"Yep. He must have snuck right by the night guard. All six men." Gil blew out a sigh. "He's a wily one. He's smart and he's determined."
"Those are the worst." Zane had hunted a lot of men in the many years he'd been on this side of the law, tracking down the wanted. "The only thing that stops them is lead."
Gil nodded, as if that didn't surprise him one bit. "I'm a good shot if you need back up."
"I work alone, but thanks, I'll remember that just in case. It would help if you pulled all your men off the mountain and kept them off." He sort of liked Gil. Couldn't help it. Maybe if circumstances had gone differently, if he'd been handed a different life, he would have wound up like Gil. Maybe running a ranch, maybe have a wedding ring on his finger and an easy smile on his face. You never know, it could have happened.
But not in this life. A man played the hand he was dealt, or he folded. Since he wasn't the folding type, he hunkered down to memorize the map, try to figure out what he'd do next if he were Craddock, where he'd hole up in this cold, damp weather.
"Supper's at five on the dot," Gil said, backing into the hallway. "You'll hear the bell, but the kitchen gals will dish up a plate for you and you can bring your meal back here to eat if you want. I won't be there, but Burton and Kellan would keep you company, I'm sure."
"Are you going home to your wife?" He glanced at that ring, but didn't let himself wonder what it would be like.
"Yep, I sure am. My pretty new wife is one of the kitchen gals, so you'll meet her one of these days." Gil beamed, a contented man. "If you need anything else, holler. I'll be in the barn."
"Will do." He nodded in thanks, waited until Gil was out of sight and traced his finger around the perimeter of land on the map near where the mansion was marked. If Craddock wasn't straying far, then it wouldn't be hard to catch his trail. It might be harder to reel him in. Craddock wasn't his usual quarry--educated, wealthy and sheltered. A man from the city who would need an accomplice who knew this country, who knew how to survive in these rugged mountains. Well, Zane considered, at least he had a place to start.
So he holstered his gun, grabbed his flannel-lined winter coat, gloves and scarf. It was going to be a cold night out there, but he was prepared. Craddock didn't stand a chance.
* * *
Verbena's gaze strayed to the window again, this time to the big parlor window that looked over the downward slope of the hillside, where evergreens shrouded the view of the ranch below. Rain dripped from branches, fell in gray curtains from a charcoal sky, making the fire crackling cheerfully in the nearby hearth cozy and luxurious. On a damp, cool day like this, even her toes were warm.
But she knew Zane Reed was likely not dry or warm, wherever he was. She clutched her needle in one hand and her embroidery hoop in the other and made another tiny stitch. She couldn’t help wondering about Zane. When he'd left here, she'd hurried to the window to watch him trudge through the rain, head down, stance determined, movements powerful. He'd hopped into his covered buckboard, set down his rifle and picked up the reins. He'd driven off with single-minded purpose, without looking back. Had he settled in at the bunkhouse? Or was he out there right now, tracking Ernest?
"This is the last curtain," Maebry was saying from her chair on the other side of the hearth. She'd come in a few minutes after Zane left with her sewing basket and her newlywed glow. She held up the cheerful yellow calico ruffle she was sewing onto the matching curtain. "For the kitchen window. Once Gil hangs this up for me, it will be official. We'll be completely moved into our home."
"We need to come by and see it," Iris said as she basted on the collar of a new dress she was working on. She frowned at the fabric, stopping to adjust it before taking her next stitch. "Not meaning to invite ourselves, but it sounds so adorable."
"Plus we love you," Magnolia added from her spot on one of the sofas. She squinted at her work, stitching away on a pillow case for her new room, which would be ready soon. "We just want to see you, you know?"
"I love you right back," Maebry said merrily, emerald eyes bright. "You're family to me, even if we're very distant cousins."
"In this case, distance is irrelevant," Rose spoke up, the new shawl she was crocheting bunched up on her lap. "As you're only a few feet from us."
"Honestly," Gemma rolled her eyes, laughing at the pun. "I told you, if you keep this up, I'll get a stitch in my side."
"As we're sewing, that's a pun too," Elise pointed out, her bouncy brown curls tumbling over her shoulders, her eyes mischievous. She'd been a friend of Magnolia's fian
cé for years, and already she felt like a close friend of theirs.
It was funny how an afternoon of fun and togetherness could change everything, Verbena thought, pulling her floss tight, needle in hand. Once they'd been on their own, just the five of them, and now there was their aunt Aumaleigh, the cowboys and workers at the ranch and friends. Gratefulness burned behind her eyes, gathered tightly in her throat. So much good had happened to them lately. Who knew what was next? They had a real life here--a dream of a life. Except for Ernest, that is. But it was more than she'd ever imagined. Almost a fairy tale come true.
She especially loved how happy her sisters were. Iris sewing away, sitting elegantly and properly in the corner, in the golden glow of a lamp on the end table beside her. She'd come out of her shell, from the tragedy years ago that had nearly broken her. She sparkled quietly but beautifully as she added something to the conversation. It must have been funny because everyone laughed.
Rose spoke up, adding another funny comment. Laughter rolled through the room. Rose was flourishing too, with her pretty blond hair and sweet loveliness, and one of the town deputies was interested in her. He seemed like a nice man. Rose had never looked happier as she crocheted away, listening to Magnolia contribute to the conversation. Laughter rang like thunder in the room.
Magnolia had come into her own, too. Verbena poked her needle through the fabric, carefully drawing the stitch tight. Magnolia was getting married to a fine man, everyone loved Tyler, and she radiated a quiet confidence that was heartening to see.
"You're awfully quiet." Penelope leaned close, keeping her voice low. The lively conversation around them kept her words from traveling. "You must have a lot on your mind, with Ernest out there somewhere and having to deal with that bounty hunter. It's a relief he's here, but he's, uh, intimidating."
"I suppose he is." Her heart tripped, remembering how tall he was, how he'd shrunk the room with his dominating presence. How dangerous he'd seemed, so well-armed and physically powerful. But there'd been kindness veiled in his eyes. "For some reason I don't feel afraid of him."
