Surrendered (Intrique Under Western Skies Book 2)

by Elaine Manders

  “Come on in here,” he called out around a mouthful of cornbread.

  Colt filled the doorway, hat in hand. “You’re certainly looking better.”

  “I feel better. I am better. Sit down, join me.”

  “Thanks, I’ve eaten. I’ll stand for now. I’ve been sitting on a hard chair and in the saddle for hours.” Colt walked around the table and stared at the pistol still lying where Rhyan had put it earlier.

  “Are you sure? This is good stew. I never realized what a good cook Soulee is. I’ll have to give her a raise. I should give them all a raise for putting up with me.”

  Colt chuckled. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded to the pistol. “See if you can find anything wrong with that gun.”

  Colt took the weapon, breaking it open to inspect it. He snapped it shut. “I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

  “So, if I pulled the trigger of that gun, there’s no reason why it wouldn’t fire?”

  “Plenty of reasons. It’s empty.”

  “But if it was fully loaded, it should have fired?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Rhyan sipped his water. “That’s what I thought. Then God had to have stopped it.” He set the glass down and looked up at Colt. “Tonight I put that gun to my head and pulled the trigger. It didn’t go off.”

  Colt drew his brows into a tight scowl and held the gun out by the barrel. “Are you telling me you held this gun,” he shook the pistol in front of him, “up to your head and pulled the trigger?”

  “That’s what I just said.”

  The gun fell in a loud clatter. In a flash, Colt’s face reddened to the shade of an overripe apple. The cords in his neck bulged as he lunged over the table, palms plastered flat on the surface right in front of Rhyan’s bowl.

  Rhyan jerked back, sure his friend meant to throttle him. Astonishment and not a little fear had him gaping. Too late, he realized confessing to Colt wasn’t a good idea.

  “Why would you do something that stupid?” Colt’s question came out through gritted teeth.

  He’d never seen Colt in such a state. There’d never been anything he couldn’t confide to Colt. Until now. The thought shot through his mind Colt might haul him off to jail for attempted suicide. “I don’t know.”

  Colt didn’t bulge and anger kept his chest heaving. Rhyan wouldn’t have been surprised to see smoke coming out his ears. “Didn’t you think what it would do to people who care about you? Ma and me? Carlos and Maria? All those who depend on you? Carianne?”

  “I wasn’t thinking at all. I just wanted it all to end.”

  “Wanted what to end?”

  “I don’t know. The struggle, the hopelessness. Look, you remember the parable of the prodigal son?”

  Like a deflated balloon, Colt collapsed. “I think I’d better sit down. What about the prodigal son?” He almost missed the chair as he sat.

  Rhyan pushed his bowl aside and propped his elbows on the table, not sure how to explain what happened to him. “You remember after the fellow got himself in the pig’s sty, Jesus said he came to himself? Well, that’s the way it was with me. I just came to myself. Isn’t that the way everyone finds salvation?”

  “Yeah, go on.” Colt was clearly still not convinced, not that Rhyan could blame him. It still sounded incredible to him.

  “I don’t know exactly how to explain it. I can’t remember my thinking at the time. It’s like I was a different man.” He looked past Colt. “It’s strange, but I don’t even remember that fellow I used to be. Anyway, God changed me, and I knew He was there. All I remember is being down in the grass, realizing that Christ had forgiven me and then—”

  Colt cut him short by bounding from his seat and grabbing him into a hug. Rhyan looked up to find his friend smiling widely, moisture in his eyes.

  He smiled back. Colt’s affection unnerved him more than his anger had. “Then you believe me. I’m not just crazy. What happened out there was real, and I am different.”

  Colt slapped him on the back hard enough to knock the breath out of him. “Yeah, I believe you.” He returned to his chair and swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “So, does this mean you won’t be leaving Sollano?”

  Rhyan slid his bowl back in place and dug in with his spoon. Hunger might be assuaged, but the stew was too good to waste. “Not right away, but I’ll have to leave in the fall. I’ve promised two men I’d help them campaign for the elections.” He held the full spoon mid-air. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here for the wedding for sure.”

  Colt, who’d started to get up, sat back down. “What wedding?”

  Rhyan sent him a quizzical stare, surprised anyone could be that frazzled. “Yours and Carianne’s. You said you were going to ask her tonight. Did you set a date?” He savored the last bite of stew.

  Colt dropped his gaze to where his hand lay on the table and began making circles on the glossy surface. “I did.” He tapped the wood with his fingers. “She turned me down.”

  “Turned you down?” Rhyan asked, his mouth full. He had to take another swig of water to force the under-chewed food down his throat. His heart was racing wildly, and not because of choking. “Why?”

  Colt worked his fingers through his hair as if stalling for time. “Well, you see, I always figured she wouldn’t agree to marry me. I proposed only to force her to see the truth.”

  The spoon clattered in the empty bowl. “What is the truth?”

  “That she—well that she still loves you.”

  Rhyan’s galloping pulse kicked up a notch. “You think so?”

  “Yeah, I do. What about you? Do you love her?”

  Rhyan grabbed his glass like it was a lifeline and guzzled the last of the water. So many emotions had swept through him tonight. What did he feel? He set the glass down with a thud. “I’ve loved her from the moment she came into the library that day, wearing that silly little blue hat. You remember that? And her smile—” He swallowed hard. “And all the time, I knew she wouldn’t have me because she couldn’t trust me.”

  “But tonight changes that,” Colt said.

  Rhyan glanced at him. “Does it? God has forgiven me, but will she? Not even God can change my past.”

  “Seems to me you ought to talk to her and give her a chance to make that decision.”

  “I will.” His glance traveled the room, looking for what he didn’t know. “I suppose it’s too late tonight.”

  Colt chuckled. “Yeah, it’s almost twelve.”

  “Then first thing in the morning. Maybe by then I can come up with something to plead my case.”

  Colt got up to leave. He stopped at the door. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

  ***

  Later that night Rhyan lay in bed, his mind running in all direction. He didn’t realize he was praying, his thoughts just naturally turned to a conversation with God.

  I need her, Lord. There’s no other woman in the world who’ll understand me, who’ll welcome all the things I want to do. Others as educated and sophisticated as Carianne would expect to be lavished with luxuries. They wouldn’t understand why riches shouldn’t be used just for their own enjoyment instead of used to help others.

  I can’t do it alone. You’ve said it isn’t good for man to be alone, God. I want her. But I’m afraid. Will you prepare her to forgive me? To accept me?

  He fell asleep before the answer came.

  Chapter 26

  A cat’s yowling woke her.

  Carianne raised her head to blinding sunlight as the fuzzy haze of sleep lifted from her brain. What happened? She lay sprawled, half on and half off the bed. Details of the preceding night came to her. She’d been praying as darkness crouched over her.

  How could she have slept this way all night? The morning sun blared through the open curtains of her window, confirming she had. It must be at least nine o’clock.

  The oppression and gloom had vanished.

  Before an
swering Henry’s frantic cries, she went to the basin and splashed water on her face, wiped dry, and took the few remaining pins from her hair. It tumbled around her shoulders, and she ran her fingers through it to smooth out the worst tangles. No time for the brushing it needed. She’d slept in her dress all night, and it looked it.

  Despite her appearance, she felt better than she had in days. Regardless of the cramped position, she’d had a good night’s sleep.

  The nightmares hadn’t bothered her last night. Her lips pulled into a smile. Nothing but peace surrounded her. What did it mean? Had the lion given up? Slunk back to his den in defeat?

  Or had he gotten what he wanted?

  The impatient Henry stopped scratching and howling, and now banged on the door as if he were crashing into it with his head. She crossed the room and threw the door open. The cat looked up with a pleading meow and started circling her skirt. “All right. I know you’re hungry.”

  Come to think of it, so was she.

  Stepping around Henry, she made for the kitchen. “I think I’ll cook breakfast, but first you can have some cream. Yes, I know you missed your supper last night.” She took the cream out of the icebox and poured it into a saucer. Dropping to a kneeling position, she set the saucer before Henry, scratching behind his ears.

  “This isn’t enough, I know, but I’ll give you some of my breakfast.”

  A loud knock brought her to her feet. “See, that’s Martha with our eggs, though I don’t know why she didn’t come to the back door, as usual.”

  She dashed to the front door and flung it open with a smile. Her glance traveled from black boots all the way up his tall frame. She gasped.

  “Rhyan?” Her smile faded as confusion took over. From what Colt had told her, she’d have expected Ryan to look like a raving madman, but here he was looking—wonderful. Viral. Gorgeous.

  Their gazes locked for several seconds before she thought of her own appearance. What must she look like with her hair tangled and hanging down, the imprint of her bedspread still on her cheek?

  “Can I speak with you, Carianne?”

  Her hand flew to her hair, gathering the mess to shove it in back. She wanted time to make herself presentable, but feared he’d leave if she asked him to wait.

  She bunched her wrinkled skirt and stepped outside. “Would you care to sit?” She offered the swing.

  “No, I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind.”

  He didn’t intend to stay long. She braced herself for disappointment.

  “Carianne, I’ve come to…to ask…no, to beg, your forgiveness.” His words came out strained, his voice packed with emotion. Deep. Earnest. Humble. “You see, God has forgiven me. I finally see the light, Carianne. I’ve surrendered my life to Christ, and I thank you for helping me to come to that decision.”

  The impact of what he said stunned her into immobility. Simple but powerful. Her prayers had been answered when she least expected it. Tears welled. She felt them spill down her cheeks. Speech was impossible, and now she’d have red eyes and a nose to match her disheveled clothes. She’d never looked so horrible, while he was never so handsome.

  Fear left her, blown away like the seeds of a dandelion in a gust of wind. Her legs turned to jelly, and she feared she’d sink into a puddle on the floor. Not able to get a word out, she nodded.

  Maybe there was a bit of moisture in his eyes, or maybe it was just a trick of the light, but she caught a new gleam in the depths of those sultry orbs. His smile was genuine, though not wide enough to show his dimple. Just enough to know it hid below the surface. Waiting to delight her over and over again.

  Averting his gaze, she turned her back to him. Give her some time to absorb the moment. She fumbled for a handkerchief she knew was missing. Why couldn’t she ever remember to slip a handkerchief in her waistband? She used the sleeve of her dress to blot her tears.

  “Carianne, I love you. I’ve always loved you—and not just as a friend.”

  She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, but more tears flowed, and she still couldn’t utter a word.

  “I don’t want to live without you, although if you won’t have me, I guess I’ll have to, but I don’t want to,” he continued in a voice husky and tender. “Carianne, turn around and look at me.”

  A part of her nightmare flashed before her. She’d begged him to turn around—and he hadn’t.

  But she would.

  She swung around, startled to find him on his knee. Lifting her gaze, she noticed tears in his eyes.

  “Will you marry me, Carianne?”

  While the lump in her throat kept her from speaking, she forced her rubbery legs forward. She threw herself into his embrace with enough force to have toppled them both if he hadn’t been braced.

  Not waiting for his kiss, she gently pressed her wet lips over his, closing her eyes to the heady sensation of tasting his mouth. He took her face in his hands, forcing her to break the kiss. “I can take that as a yes?”

  She nodded frantically, trying to swallow and make her heart settle back into her chest. “Yes, yes. I’ll love you forever—always have.”

  His dimple popped into view. “So you’ll have me—warts and all?”

  She laughed, releasing the bottled up tension. Still cradling her face, he reached up to kiss her forehead. “Your laughter—that throaty snicker—how I’ve missed that sound. Just to think I can hear you laugh every day of my life. I thank God for that blessing.”

  Then they were kissing again. For how long, she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t want it to end. Finally she heard his voice against her ear. “Carianne, honey, can I get up now?”

  His legs must be aching from staying in a crouched position so long. She jumped back. He got to his feet and stretched. “You like me on my knees, don’t you?”

  A little giggle escaped her lips. The blessing of having a husband who would keep her laughing warmed her all over. She took him by the arm and tugged. “Come over here to the swing, so you can sit.” Kissing would be so much easier if their faces were on a level plane.

  They sat, arms intertwined, as he kissed her gently, tenderly, tantalizingly, from her lips to her closed eyelids, her forehead, her nose, and back to her lips. She felt a lightness that would surely have her floating up into the sky if he didn’t hold her down.

  A loud “Harrumph” broke them apart. Carianne slid around to find Dorcas standing at the foot of the porch steps, arms akimbo, looking down her long, thin nose.

  She stiffened, biting her lower lip. Here they’d been caught kissing by the town’s chief moralist. In broad daylight. In public.

  “It’s all right,” Rhyan said. “We’re getting married.”

  “Married—” Dorcas gasped as she pivoted, jerking back to face them. “You’re getting married?” Her brows disappeared under the brim of her straw hat.

  They both nodded. Dorcas’s mouth opened wide enough for a swarm of June flies to swoop in. “Well…carry on.” She made a shooing motion with her hands before scurrying down the street, arms pumping. A woman on a mission.

  “Guess that takes care of our wedding announcements,” Rhyan said.

  Carianne smiled. Dorcas would make sure the whole town knew before noon. Closing her eyes, she nestled against Rhyan’s chest and savored his touch as he kissed her temple, moving to her ear, making her groan.

  “Are you happy?” he whispered.

  “I didn’t know it was possible to be so happy and still be alive,” she said. “I just feel like…I want to melt into you.”

  He reared back to look at her. “Don’t melt. I have a better idea. You think that preacher at your church will be there this morning?”

  “Yes, he usually is in his office on weekday mornings.”

  “With a witness?”

  Did he mean they should get married today? Now? She couldn’t think of a better time. “His wife should be there.”

  Rhyan stood, pulling her up. “That’s all we need.”

  Good sense fin
ally snagged her brain. “Oh, I can’t go looking like this. I slept in my clothes last night and…my hair.” She tried to push a hanging tendril into place, but it kept flopping back on her wet cheek. “I’m surprised you didn’t take one look at me and run.”

  He drew her closer and cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. His features turned serious. “Carianne, I think I told you this once before, but you didn’t believe me. I want you to listen carefully. I know it’s going to be hard for you to trust me, but what I’m telling you is the truth. Even when you’re looking your worst, you’re still the most beautiful woman in the world to me.”

  Tears gushed forth again before she could prevent them, and he pulled a handkerchief from somewhere to dab at the corners of his own eyes before handing it to her. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry anymore. You have to swear you won’t tell anyone. If this got back to the Cattleman’s Association, they’d throw me out.”

  She sniffed, choking back laughter. “I won’t, but I’m not going to have you marry a scarecrow either. You go around and stand at the window so we can talk.”

  His chuckle floated on the morning air. “I’ll do it, but I hope Tom doesn’t shoot me as an intruder.”

  “Not at this time of day. I’ll pull the curtains.” She gave him one last kiss and rushed inside. How did one dress for a wedding in the ten minutes she’d allow herself?

  ***

  Rhyan waited for Pastor Eckert in the little closet the church called an office. He held his wife-to-be by her small hand, and when he sent her a sidelong glance found her staring at him, an adoring glint in her hazel eyes. Dressed in an ivory satin gown with blue piping trim, a simple blue ribbon holding her silky tresses at the nape of her shapely neck, she was about as lovely as any bride could be. He was indeed a blessed man.

  Pastor Eckert came through the door and maneuvered around them in the tight space to get behind his desk. “Sorry to have kept you waiting. Mrs. Eckert said you two want to get married. That can be arranged. When is the date?”