Never Love a Cowboy

by Lorraine Heath

  He nodded. “It won’t matter one whit to them.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because they’re children.”

  “Children taunted you for being a bastard.”

  “Not young children. It’s only as we grow older and more cynical that we hurt others in an attempt to turn attention away from our own faults.”

  Within the pit of his gut, Harrison knew he was making a mistake, but it wasn’t the first, and he seriously doubted it would be the last. “All right, I’ll go on one condition.”

  “And that would be?”

  God, he hated asking, despised the dependency. “That you bring me some hot water so I can wash up. I’m a bit rank.”

  Grayson smiled. “You always were one for understatement.”

  Harrison had tried sitting with his back against a tree, but the pressure on his hip was more than he could bear. It hadn’t healed properly, but he knew nothing could be done now but to accept it.

  So he’d stretched out on the quilt, on his left side, raised up on an elbow. He’d never expected to envy the illegitimate son of a duke. In his mind, he had no doubt that Grayson was happy. Abbie obviously adored his friend, as did the children from her first marriage.

  Her daughter, Lydia, greatly resembled her mother. At nine, her oldest son, Johnny, looked much like his father, but he lacked his father’s serious nature. The youngest boy, Micah, was six. He had his father’s dark hair but his mother’s violet eyes, enlarged by the spectacles he wore until he resembled an owl. Micah squatted in front of him, his gaze intense as though he could see into Harrison’s sordid soul.

  “You and me are the same,” he croaked after a while, in a voice that had always reminded Harrison of a frog.

  “In what way, lad?”

  He blinked his eyes. “I cain’t hardly see, and you cain’t hardly walk.”

  Harrison’s stomach tightened. He couldn’t walk at all. After the doctor had left two days before, he’d tried again to use the crutches within the privacy of his room. He’d fallen flat on his face. His only comfort had come from the fact that he’d regained enough strength in his arms that he could pull himself into bed. Reaching out, he touched the rim of the boy’s spectacles. “But these help you see, do they not?”

  The lad bobbed his head, the locks of dark brown hair flapping against his forehead. “I bet somethin’ could help you walk.”

  “I don’t think so, lad.”

  “Uh-huh.” He jumped up and ran off to join his brother at the edge of the river, where he stood with a fishing pole in his hand beside Grayson.

  “Children have such faith, don’t they?”

  Harrison jerked his head around at the familiar smoky voice. The horse snorted as Jessye dismounted. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  Shrugging, she threaded the reins through the branches of a nearby bush before plopping down beside him. “I was out riding and thought I’d stop by.”

  He resented like the devil that he couldn’t even sit up without making a gruesome spectacle of himself. “Gray told me this was a secluded spot.”

  She nodded, her gaze on the river. “I was out here yesterday. Went swimming with Abbie.”

  “Well, Abbie returned to the house right after we ate lunch. She took the baby and Lydia with her. So if you want to see her, that’s where you need to go.”

  Jessye began plucking up blades of grass. “I didn’t come to see her.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Yesterday, I played in the river with Colton, and his little legs were kicking. He can’t walk, but in the water…” She dropped her gaze. “I thought if you went swimming, maybe your legs would remember—”

  He started laughing, long and hard.

  “It’s not funny. You haven’t used your legs in months, and it occurred to me that you just needed to start over, from the beginning, learn to crawl—”

  He abruptly stopped his laughter. “Oh, I can crawl, Jessye, on my belly like a slug creeping out from beneath a rock at night.” He jerked his gaze toward the river. “Gray!”

  But all he saw was the water lapping at the shore. Grayson and the boys were gone. Suspicion lurked and knowledge dawned. He snapped his gaze back to Jessye. “Bloody damned hell! You arranged this.”

  She nodded. “Don’t be mad at them. I didn’t know how else to get you out here. I knew you wouldn’t come if I asked.”

  Impotent rage surged through him. “So now I am to be a prisoner here until Gray returns and hauls me—like a sack of potatoes—to your room at the back of the saloon? I can’t even live in my old room because it’s at the top of the stairs. Have you no idea of the humiliation I feel at being dependent—”

  “I do know, damn you! I do know and that’s why I’m trying so hard to help you. Do you think I would have given up my daughter if I’d been independent? If I’d had money or a man’s name? I know the humiliation of not being able to control my destiny—and I know the strength required to take that first step to never again be dependent upon anyone or anything but yourself.” Tears flooded her lovely green eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. “Let me help you, Harry.”

  With his thumb, he captured her tear. “It’s not the same.”

  “It’s not that different. Why do you think I invested in the cattle venture? Why do you think I risked my reputation and my life? Because I never want to be dependent on anyone again.”

  She reached out and then drew back, as though fearing his rejection. She clasped her hands tightly within her lap.

  Clenching his teeth against the pain, he struggled to sit up. He scooted back until he could roll onto his left hip and lean against the tree. “You were supposed to go with Kit.” It was an inane comment, with no bearing on the argument at hand.

  “I couldn’t leave you.”

  “Why?”

  She shook her head and studied her hands. “Don’t look to me to give you a reason to walk. That’s got to be within you.”

  “You don’t think I want to walk?”

  “I think you’re scared. You want to walk so badly that it’s frightening, almost paralyzing. As long as you don’t try, there’s always the possibility that you might walk. But you’re afraid that if you try and fall, it’ll mean that you’ll never walk. When all it means is that you fell and need to try again. If you don’t try, I dadgum guarantee that you never will walk.”

  “Fine words from someone who doesn’t trust any man to be honorable simply because one man wasn’t.”

  “You’re right.” With a sigh, she jumped to her feet. “Spend your life lying in the shade. I’m gonna swim in the sun.”

  He watched her run the short distance to the water’s edge. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as she hopped up and down, tugging off her boots. She pulled her shirt over her head, and his breath caught at the sight of her white chemise. She draped the shirt over a nearby bush. Take off the chemise, a little voice inside his head dared her.

  But she left it in place and jerked off her trousers. Christ, he would have traded his soul to the devil to have the ability to go after her. The skimpy undergarments left little to his imagination. Ah, to see her in the sunlight instead of the shadows of the night…

  He glanced around quickly. If Grayson were hiding behind some bushes watching, he’d have to kill him. But all he saw were a couple of squirrels, some mockingbirds, and butterflies fluttering low to the ground.

  He turned his attention back to Jessye. She waded out a few steps before crouching and diving into the water. Graceful, so incredibly graceful. She came up to the surface, rolled to her back, and spread her arms out. He saw her small feet kick against the current.

  “Come on, Harry! The water’s warm,” she called out.

  And his body was fevered with need. He didn’t have the best view in the world, but he could tell the soaked material was plastered against her skin. Her face was turned toward the sun, away from him. Even if her eyes were open, she’d be unable to see him.

  A short dis
tance away from him, a tree stood nearer to the bank. He lay on the ground. Ignoring the pain in his side, he stretched out his arms and pulled himself forward, inch by agonizing inch. He was taken off-guard by the sense of accomplishment that filled him as he reached the tree and worked his way into a sitting position, hoping she hadn’t noticed the journey he’d taken.

  God, he nearly laughed, as though he were playing hide-and-seek as a child might.

  She twisted in the water, her gaze falling on him, her smile bright. “Come on in, Harry.”

  “I’d drown.”

  “Colton didn’t drown.”

  “Yes, well, I’m certain someone held the lad while he was in the water.”

  She stopped floating and began to bob in the water, her arms moving in a constant circle. “I’ll hold you.”

  His stomach knotted at the smoky allure of her voice, the images that flashed through his mind. He almost shouted for her to close her eyes so she wouldn’t see his ungainly entrance into the river.

  But pride held him back. Pride and fear. Fear that he would indeed drown—or have to be rescued. To discover that not only could he not walk but he also could no longer swim—

  She released a quick screech and went beneath the water.

  “Jessye!” He stretched up as much as he was able—and couldn’t see her. Frantically, he scanned the river. “Gray! Gray!” Damn the man for leaving. He’d hoped he was at least within shouting distance.

  Jessye popped back up to the surface and just as quickly went under. Terror seized him. “Jessye!” Nothing. He fell to his stomach, raised up on his elbows, and dragged himself to the water’s edge. “Bloody damned hell!”

  He sat up and pulled off his boots, his gaze trained on the river. “Jessye!”

  Still nothing. No bubbles, no arms, no legs, no light green eyes. Ah, Christ, if she’d drowned because he hadn’t been able to move fast enough—

  He took a deep breath and slid into the water. He kept his head above the surface. The scent of the river, mud, fish, and plants filled his nostrils. “Jessye!”

  He heard the huge splash as she came up from the depths of the river. Relief surged through him, quickly followed by suspicion. He furrowed his brow. The depths of the river. With only his arms, he’d pulled himself to its center and his knees skimmed the bottom. “It’s not deep.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s not.”

  “I thought you were drowning,” he said sharply.

  “I figured you might.” She lifted a shoulder, having the grace to look slightly ashamed. “I reckon I cheated.” She waded toward him. “But I just thought if I could get you in the water, you’d see that you could move your legs here like you can’t out there, and if we could get your legs to work again—”

  “I didn’t kick to get out here. I only used my arms.”

  “How about now?”

  “I’m on my knees.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  Her question took him off-guard. The water moved gently around him. He wasn’t truly on his knees. He kept afloat by moving his arms, but the pressure on his hip was less than it had been in a long time. “I can’t stand.”

  “You don’t need to. But you can float, and little by little, your legs will start working again.”

  Her eyes held such hope that she almost had him believing her words. “What if they don’t?”

  “What have you lost? You’re out of the bed, out of your room, outside. The sun is shining and the birds are singing—”

  He skimmed his finger along the curve of her chemise. “And you are very nearly naked.” He raised a brow. “There might be some advantages to this endeavor.”

  “Let’s take off your shirt.”

  Although he was surrounded by water, his mouth went dry as she unbuttoned his shirt. When she pulled the shirt over his head, he lifted his arms and sank beneath the surface, experiencing a heartbeat of panic before he felt her arm go around him and bring him back up.

  She smiled brightly when he dragged his hand down his face to get the water out of his eyes.

  “Keep yourself afloat while I hang this up to dry,” she ordered.

  “What about my trousers?”

  “I think you’d best keep them on.” She trudged toward the bank.

  “I’ve no objection to you removing all your clothes,” he called after her.

  She laughed as she draped his shirt over a bush before gliding back to him.

  “So how is this supposed to work?” he asked.

  He watched the doubts flicker within her eyes.

  “I don’t know. I sorta thought you could float on your back and I would hold you. Maybe after a time your legs would remember what to do. They need to regain their strength before you can walk.” She cradled his cheek. “It might not work at all. We have to expect that it won’t, I reckon, so we’re not terribly disappointed if it doesn’t.”

  He didn’t want to acknowledge the spark of hope burning inside his chest. He took her hand, turned it slightly, and pressed a kiss to the heart of her palm. “All right. Let’s give it a go.”

  She trudged behind him. “Just lean back.”

  He did as she ordered, but his legs didn’t want to cooperate. Maybe they never would.

  Her arms came around him, and he settled his head against her shoulder. His legs began to move with the current, a gentle motion, more movement than they’d experienced in months. They were cheating, really. Manipulating legs that refused to yield. Perhaps…

  “I’ve been a real bastard these past few months. Why are you so forgiving and willing to help me?” he asked.

  “Purely selfish reasons. I want my bedroom back.”

  With the sun shining on his face, he smiled at her lie and wondered at her true reasons.

  Jessye bent backward, trying to ease the ache out of her lower back. She usually took a nap in the afternoon to help her get through the grueling night of serving drinks and food to men, but this afternoon had been spent in the river. She’d been shocked when she’d removed Harry’s shirt to see how thin he’d become. She didn’t know why she’d expected otherwise. He only left the bed when Grayson came to visit and give him his bath.

  Washing the last of the glasses, she smiled. Today had been a success. Harry’s legs hadn’t moved with the strength or agility of Colton’s, but she’d caught a slight movement now and again, and Harry had actually teased her a time or two. He’d been loathe to leave the river when Grayson and his family had returned in the late afternoon.

  She dried her hands on the towel. Her heart had nearly broken when Grayson had carried Harry back to his bed—his prison, he called it. He’d forbidden her to write his father, so, as much as she despised the role, she was his keeper more than his friend.

  She walked out of the kitchen into the hallway that led past the room that had once been hers. Now she slept in Harry’s old room at the top of the stairs, but his room was stark and bare…unlike hers, which carried mementos of her youth. Sometimes, she feared he would come to know her better by staying there, better than she knew herself, while she learned nothing more about him than what she already knew. Somewhere along the trail between Fortune and Kansas, she’d fallen in love with him.

  Yet despite his attention, his kisses, the secrets they’d shared in the night, and the passion, she knew he would never truly love her. On the trail, she was the only woman within hundreds of miles; and now she was still the only woman within his reach—and an unsophisticated female at that.

  She stopped by the door that led into his room, resisting the urge to open it slightly and peer inside, to catch a glimpse of him sleeping. She’d often watched him on the trail. In sleep, he appeared almost innocent. What a cheating illusion that was.

  A low, muted groan shimmered against the door. She pressed her hand and her ear to the oak. She heard a strangled cry. She shoved open the door, her heart leaping into her throat.

  Harry’s legs were curled beneath him. Reaching back, he snatched the cove
rs over himself, but not before she saw what she thought was a swollen knot on his calf. He jerked the corner of the pillow out of his mouth. “Get out!”

  She stepped into the room. “Has this happened before?”

  “Get out!” he growled. “And shut the damn door.”

  “I’m gonna get the doctor.” She turned.

  “No!”

  She swung back around. “Harry, you’re in pain. He might be able to do something—”

  He waved his hand frantically in the air. “In the drawer here by the bed there’s a jar. Get it.”

  She rushed across the room, jerked open the drawer, and pulled out the jar. “What is it?”

  He snatched it from her. “Some sort of liniment. Now go.”

  She watched him struggle to twist the lid with a trembling hand. She took the jar from him and opened it. A pungent odor rose up and stung her eyes. “What is this?”

  “Something to ease”—he groaned—“the pain. Now get out of here.” He moved the sheet aside until a portion of his leg was visible. With his fingers, he scooped out some of the salve and began to rub it on his calf.

  “Will you leave?” he muttered.

  “No.” She dipped her fingers in the jar. “What do I do?”

  “Jessye—”

  “Harry.”

  He sighed deeply. “Just work it in.”

  She eased the sheet aside, exposing his thin legs. Little wonder he couldn’t walk. She remembered the way his trousers had stretched across his thighs whenever he’d crouched in front of her, the way it had felt to have his strong thighs wedged between hers. She rubbed her hands briskly together to spread the salve and create warmth. Gingerly, she laid her hands on his knotted calf.

  He moaned low. She glanced over her shoulder to see that his eyes were squeezed shut. He’d stuffed the corner of the pillow back into his mouth. She increased the pressure on the knot, rubbing gently until she felt it give way and relax. “Everything’s going to be all right, Harry. It was a stupid idea to go swimming.”

  “Do tell.”

  Nodding, she gathered more salve, warmed her hands, and located the next hardened knot. She worked her fingers around the knot. Strange. She’d made love to him and never seen his bare legs. She should have insisted he remove all his clothes that night.