“There’s no shame in crying for a loved one.”
She regarded him curiously, her own loss momentarily forgotten. “Did you lose someone you loved?”
Ridge nodded. Though it had happened years ago, the wound was still fresh, still raw. And because he couldn’t face returning home knowing she wasn’t there, he had never gone back. Now, almost ten years later, he wasn’t sure which hurt the most—the loss of his sister or the loss of his homeland. He gazed into the distance. The land where he had been born was in his blood. He had spent years running away, growing more bitter with every mile he had put between himself and the distant mountains where the Chiricahua made their home.
“Ridge?”
“What?” He drew his gaze from the distance and focused on the woman once again.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“But you’re not over it, are you?”
“No.” And he never would be. “Come on,” he said, rising. “I’ll walk you back.”
“All right.” Ignoring his hand, she stood and took a step forward. A startled cry rose in her throat as she tripped over a rock and stumbled forward.
Instinctively, Ridge caught her in his arms.
“Let go of me.”
“Hey, I could have let you fall.”
“Thank you for catching me. Now let me go.”
“You afraid of me, Martha Jean?”
“Of course not! I just don’t like being held.”
“I think it’s just what you need.”
“I don’t care what you think,” she said, trying to wriggle out of his arms. “Let me go!”
He ran his hand over her hair and down her back, soft and slow. “Easy, darlin’,” he murmured, drawing her closer. He sensed more than saw her attempt to knee him. He turned sideways just in time, his arms tightening around her. “Hey, now, there’s no need for that. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“Let me go, Longtree. Please let me go.”
“Shh. You don’t have to pretend with me. You don’t have to be strong now. I know what you want, darlin’.” And so saying, he lowered his head and kissed her.
At the touch of his lips on hers, she stopped struggling and melted into his embrace. His kiss was infinitely tender, demanding nothing in return. His hand moved up and down her back in long, slow strokes that were somehow soothing and sensual at the same time.
Lifting his head, he gazed into her eyes, and then he kissed her again. Marty’s arms slipped around his waist. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and surrendered to his touch. He did indeed know what she wanted. There was nothing of tenderness in his kiss this time. His mouth claimed hers boldly. His tongue slid across the seam of her lips, demanding entrance. No man had ever kissed her like that before. At first she was shocked, and then, to her shame, curiosity overcame prudence and she parted her lips for him.
Shock rippled through her once again. Shock and pleasure, and a spiraling desire that started low in her belly and spread outward, like a wildfire fanned by the wind.
She clung to him, moaning softly, as he deepened the kiss. She didn’t realize he had lowered her to the ground until she felt the dampness beneath her back. He cradled her head in one hand while the other began a slow exploration of her body.
Her eyes flew open at the touch of his hand on her breast. Startled, she slapped him and then scrambled to her feet, her arms crossed over her chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps, as if she had run a great distance.
He stared up at her, one hand rubbing his cheek. “Damn, woman, make up your mind.”
She stared at him, her cheeks flushed with shame. He was a hired gun, a man she had known only a few days. What must he think of her? What would Dani think of her? Oh, Lord, what would her father think? She had buried him only that morning, and tonight she was rolling around in the dirt with a stranger.
Mortified, she turned and fled into the darkness.
Still absently rubbing his cheek, Ridge stared after Marty Flynn. He had kissed a lot of women in his day, but none of them compared to her. He had a feeling that once she let herself go, she would burn hotter and fly higher than a skyrocket on the Fourth of July. Not only that, but she’d likely burn up the man who taught her the pleasures of intimacy. Grinning ruefully, he knew he’d give his back teeth to be that man.
“Marty, where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Dani looked at her sister and frowned. “Are you all right?”
“Of course I’m all right. What are you doing down here? I thought you went to bed.”
“I did, but I couldn’t sleep.” Dani rose from the sofa, her eyes narrowed. “You’ve been crying.”
“I have not.”
“There’s grass in your hair.”
Marty stared at her sister defiantly. “So?”
Dani shrugged. “Your mouth is all swollen.”
“Are you through taking inventory?”
“You were with him, weren’t you?” Dani exclaimed in horror. “That gunslinger! Marty, how could you?”
“Dani—”
“Pa’s not even cold in the ground yet.”
“You kissed him, too,” Marty said defensively.
“Not the night we buried Pa.”
Marty sank down on the sofa, all the fight seeping out of her like water through a sieve. “I don’t know how it happened. One minute he was comforting me, and the next we were…”
Dani’s eyes grew wide. “You didn’t let him…?”
“No, of course not.” But she had wanted to. Mercy, how she had wanted to.
“I think you should tell him to go away.”
“No.” Marty shook her head emphatically. “I need…that is…I mean, we need him here.”
“For what?” Dani asked skeptically.
“To find out who killed Pa.”
“We both know it was Claunch, even if there’s no way to prove it.”
Marty blew out a sigh. “Maybe it wasn’t him.”
Dani stared at her in disbelief. “How can you say that?”
“I don’t know. I’m going to bed. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Upstairs in her room, Marty changed into her nightgown, then climbed into bed, only to lie there, her thoughts chasing themselves like a dog chasing its tail. What if Victor Claunch wasn’t the one who had killed her father? And if it wasn’t Claunch, then who? Try as she might, she couldn’t think of anyone else in town who would have wanted her father dead. What if the murderer was just some passing cowboy? If that was true, they might never find the man responsible. And what was she going to do about Ridge Longtree? Maybe Dani was right. Maybe she should tell him to leave.
Rising, she went to the window, her restless gaze searching the darkness. A brief flare of light drew her gaze, and in its faint glow she saw a man standing near one of the corrals. It was Longtree. She knew it without a doubt. Clutching the neck of her nightgown, she stared down at him. What would have happened if she hadn’t slapped him? Would he have continued to kiss and caress her until she was helpless to resist, until he had taken everything she had to offer? And where would that have left her? Unmarried and ruined for life.
But standing there, watching him, she couldn’t help thinking it might have been worth it.
Dani sat at her bedroom window, the curtain drawn back ever so slightly. Ridge Longtree stood in the yard below. From time to time he took a drag on his cigarette. The faint glow cast red shadows on his face, giving him a devilish look. Fitting, she thought, and couldn’t help wondering what had gone on between him and Marty. She couldn’t help remembering how Ridge had kissed her only a few days ago. He had pretended he was comforting her, too, the way Marty said he was comforting her, but he was a liar. Nettie had told her men wanted only one thing from a woman, and that if a woman was smart, she didn’t give anything away, especially her virginity, which could be given only once. It was, Nettie had said, the most precious gift a woman could give
her husband.
She frowned, wondering why a woman had to be pure but a man didn’t. She was pretty sure that Ridge Longtree had bedded plenty of women in his time, and she didn’t intend to be one of them. And yet… She lifted her fingertips to her lips, remembering his kiss. It had been gentle, but it had made her yearn for things she didn’t quite understand, things she had never felt when Cory kissed her. Did that make her wicked? Ridge Longtree was a dangerous man, a man who frightened her in ways she didn’t comprehend.
A footstep in the next room drew her attention. So, she thought, Marty couldn’t sleep, either. Was she standing at her window, staring down at Longtree?
With a sigh, Dani crawled back into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. Once, she and Marty had spent hours wondering what went on behind Mama and Daddy’s closed bedroom door. Being raised on a ranch, Dani and her sister knew what mating was. They had seen dogs and cats and horses mate. After watching a stallion cover a mare, Dani had declared she was never going to let any boy do that to her.
But she had been a lot younger then. She was a little older now, a little wiser. After all, she had once seen Cory swimming naked in the creek, although all she had seen was his bare behind. And that from a distance.
Sighing, she stared up at the ceiling and wished her mother was there to answer the questions she didn’t dare ask Marty.
Chapter Six
Nettie Flynn stared blankly into the distance for several moments, then looked down at the telegram in her hand and read it again.
Pa was killed on the 5th by a person or persons unknown. Dani wants you to come home. Martha.
Seamus was dead.
She read the words a third time, and a fourth.
Seamus was dead. The word seemed to echo through her mind—dead, dead, dead. A huge weight seemed to lift from her shoulders.
Seamus was dead. He couldn’t hurt her anymore.
She read the telegram a fifth time, only then noticing that it said Dani wanted her home. Nothing to indicate that Martha wanted to see her. That wasn’t surprising, but it hurt just the same.
She wondered if she would ever find the courage to tell her daughters why she had left them. They had grown up thinking she had deserted them without a qualm. Would they hate her all the more if she told them the truth? Even if they forgave her, they might still hate her for telling them the truth about their father. Lord knew she would never forgive herself for leaving them. But she had been so young when it happened. So afraid of her husband’s rage. Afraid of what her impressionable daughters would think if they found out.
She read the words again, her gaze lingering on the names of her daughters. Martha had just turned sixteen and Dani ten when Nettie left the ranch. They would be young women now. She had missed out on so much.
And now Seamus was dead.
Did she dare go back? How could she not?
She stared at the telegram again, wondering if she should send a wire and let Martha know she was coming. After a moment, she decided against it. Better to arrive unannounced than to risk having Martha tell her not to come.
With her mind made up, Nettie went into the bedroom and began to pack.
Chapter Seven
Three days later, Marty sat in Randolph Ludlow’s office, listening in disbelief as he read her father’s will.
Unable to believe what she was hearing, Marty slammed her hands down on the arms of her chair. “He left the ranch to her? I don’t believe it!”
“I’m afraid it’s true, Miss Flynn.” Randolph Ludlow tapped the paper on the desk in front of him. “You can read it for yourself, if you like.”
“But…why?” Marty glanced at Dani, who was sitting beside her, as if her sister might have the answer, then looked back at the lawyer. “Why would he leave her the ranch? Nettie hated it, hated it so much she ran back to Boston.”
“I’m afraid I couldn’t say why. According to the terms of the will, she owns the house and the land, but all the stock and tack belong to you.”
Marty stared at her father’s lawyer in disbelief. Randolph Ludlow was short and compact, with thick gray hair, a handlebar mustache, and mild blue eyes. He returned her stare with unruffled patience, apparently accustomed to the outbursts of bereaved heirs.
“What about Dani?” Marty demanded. “Didn’t he leave her anything?”
“Yes, of course. He left Danielle a sizable trust that she’ll inherit when she turns twenty-one.”
Dani’s eyes widened in surprise, but she remained mute, as she had since they’d entered Ludlow’s office.
Marty sat back in her chair, her mind reeling. Her father had left the ranch to Nettie. How could he? How could he, when he knew how much her mother hated it and how much she herself loved it?
“What if Nettie doesn’t want the ranch?” Marty asked.
Ludlow shrugged. “Let’s hope she does.”
“But if she doesn’t? Can she sell it?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“But I want it!”
“You can always buy it from her.”
“With what?” Marty fought back the useless urge to cry. Whatever had possessed her father to leave the ranch to Nettie, the stock to Marty, and the cash to Dani? She clenched her hands as anger washed through her. Hard on the heels of that anger came a sense of guilt for being angry with her father when he wasn’t there to defend himself.
“Perhaps you could get a loan from the bank.”
“Maybe.” But she thought the chances of that were mighty slim. Even with the cattle as collateral, she didn’t think Miles Jackson over at the bank would consider lending her enough money to buy the ranch.
“You could always sell the cattle,” Ludlow suggested.
Marty shook her head. Cattle prices were down. Even if they were selling at top dollar, without the cattle, there was no way to make the ranch pay for itself. If she sold the cattle to buy the ranch, she wouldn’t have any money left to restock it.
“Well,” Ludlow said, spreading his hands, “perhaps you’re worrying for nothing. Your mother may not wish to sell.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ludlow.” Rising, Marty smoothed a wrinkle from the front of her skirt. “Come along, Dani.”
Ludlow also rose. “I’m sorry you’re upset.” Rounding his desk, he offered Marty his hand, then shook hands with Dani. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
With a nod, Marty left the lawyer’s office.
“You can use my money to buy the ranch,” Dani said, coming up behind Marty.
“I could,” Marty said, “but you won’t get it for another four years.”
“Well, I’m sure Mama would be willing to wait.”
“I’m not,” Marty replied curtly. Stepping off the boardwalk, she headed across the street to where they had left the buckboard, her thoughts growing darker with each passing moment.
“Marty! Look out!”
She glanced up at her sister’s warning cry, felt her insides go cold when she saw a freight wagon bearing down on her. Before she could think to move, something crashed into her from behind and shoved her out of harm’s way. She fell facedown in the dirt, scraping her hands and knees. Before she could recover, rough hands were turning her over. A pair of angry blue eyes moved over her from head to foot.
“You little fool!” Ridge Longtree admonished, lifting her from the ground and cradling her in his arms. “Didn’t anybody teach you to watch where you’re going?”
She blinked up at him as the back of the freight wagon rumbled past, trembling as she realized how close she had come to being trampled.
Dani came hurrying toward her. “Marty! Marty, are you all right?”
She nodded, too shaken to speak.
“Thank goodness you were here, Mr. Longtree,” Dani said. “She might have been killed.”
“She’s all right,” Ridge assured her. “Just a little spooked.”
“You…you can put…put me down now.”
“I like you fine right
where you are.” He whispered the words close to her ear so only she could hear them.
Marty stared up at him, her eyes widening.
For a moment, he thought she was going to slap him again.
“Please put me down,” she begged. “People are watching.”
Slowly, he set her on her feet.
She looked up and down the street, then walked as quickly as she could toward their buckboard.
“You’re limping,” Ridge observed.
“I scraped my knee in the dirt.”
His hand on her shoulder brought her to a stop. “Let me see.”
“Not here!” she exclaimed, conscious of watching eyes.
With a huff of annoyance, he let her go. Holding her head high, she made it to the buckboard, with Ridge at her elbow the whole way. He didn’t ask her permission, merely lifted her off her feet and onto the seat. When she was settled, he lifted Dani up beside her.
“You two ready to go home?” he asked.
With a nod, Marty picked up the reins, wincing as the leather slid over her palms.
Ridge walked around the back of the buckboard to Marty’s side. “Let me see your hands.”
“I’m fine,” she said through clenched teeth.
Eyes narrowed, he swung up beside her. “Let me see your hands.” He bit off each word.
Glaring at him, she held out her hands, palms up. Muttering under his breath, Ridge passed the reins to Dani.
She shook her head, her eyes wide.
“Dani doesn’t like driving the team,” Marty said, reaching for the reins.
“We all have to do things we don’t like once in a while,” Ridge retorted.
Dani looked at Marty, a silent plea in her eyes. “Marty…”
Marty looked at Ridge, her jaw set. “I can do it.”
“No,” he said, “you can’t.”
Untying his horse from the hitching post, he secured the reins to the back of the buckboard. “Dani, get in the back.”
She didn’t argue. Looking relieved, she climbed over the back of the seat and dropped down into the bed of the wagon.
Under Apache Skies Page 5
