“I’m always a good boy, Mama. Aren’t I?”
“Sí, bebé. You are such a good boy. Now drink this tea for your mami.”
“Yes, Mama,” he said parting his parched lips to sip the liquid. “Ugh!” Shaking his head, he shut his eyes tightly and held his lips together. “Unh-uh,” he mumbled, waving her away.
Damn it. He needed to drink the entire cup. “Jared, you must drink this for mami. You won’t be my good boy if you don’t.”
“Aw-right.” Keeping his eyes shut, he opened his mouth and hunched his shoulders in preparation for the bad taste.
This time, thankfully, he drank the rest of the cup. He finished the tea with a grimace, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “Blech!”
Natalia wanted to laugh. He was so genuinely a little boy…a darling one at that. How wonderful it would be to have a small Jared to care for, to watch him grow from a baby to a grown man who would then have babies of his own. Maybe he was right. They might’ve already started a baby. With Sarita’s help, she could raise the child…if her friend was still alive. Please let her be all right. Please let this snow stop. And please let Jared’s fever go down.
She reclaimed the rocking chair and continued her watch. He’d already drifted into a light sleep, but his fingers still picked at the ice pack on his chest. Reaching over, she covered his strong, calloused hands with hers. Her touch always seemed to ease his suffering.
When he quieted, she leaned back in the rocker just to rest her eyes for a moment.
Jared awakened, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. What the hell? His hand went to his head and removed a makeshift ice pack. He dropped it to the floor, then pulled away a larger pack from his chest. Soaking wet, he shivered. The fire still burned, keeping the chill from the room.
Talia was asleep in a rocking chair, her beautiful face pale and drawn, her dark hair tousled and falling in waves about her shoulders.
“Talia…”
She shook herself awake and sat up straight. “What? I’m sorry I didn’t mean to fall asleep. You’re better,” she said with a wide smile.
Grinning, he stretched his neck and shoulders. “Better than what?”
“Better than before. You were delirious.”
“Sure I wasn’t just drunk?” He wiped his mouth with his hand. “I’m pretty sure I finished off that bottle of whiskey.”
“Oh, no. You were out of your head.”
“Really? Damn.” He yawned, then winced when the muscles in his leg cramped. “Leg’s no better. And I’m soaking wet.” He pulled at his union suit. “I’m kind of rank here. Sorry.”
“I don’t care how you smell. You’re going to be all right.” She leaned forward, reaching to touch his forehead. His hair was wet from sweat and the ice pack. “Thank the Blessed Mother, your fever has broken. I wasn’t sure if the tea would work or not.”
“The tea?”
“Willow-bark tea,” she said, heaving a sigh. “I managed to get a cup down you…barely.”
He swallowed. Damn if his tongue didn’t feel like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth. “That accounts for the vile taste.” He shook his head and gave a shiver.
“Sí. But you’ll need several doses just to make sure your fever stays down.”
He shut his eyes and grimaced. “Now that makes me wish I was still out of my head. Not looking forward to meeting that stuff again.”
She smiled. A wonderful warm smile that gladdened his heart. In spite of her anger over learning his true identity and mission, she’d cared for him during the evening and night, getting little rest. Her ire and passion concealed the truly good human being inside, not to mention that her presence comforted him as no other woman’s had.
“I hope you’ll take it willingly this time,” she said arching raven brows.
“I was difficult, was I?”
“Indeed. But you were a good boy after all. At least you were good for your mami.”
“That’s who I thought you were?”
“Most assuredly, Pinkerton. You were very sweet but made the most terrible face when it came time to drink the tea.”
“Thank you,” he said simply, his heart too full to say more. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d left me out in the snow to die.”
Her dark eyes widened at his suggestion. “I admit I was tempted,” she said with a casual shrug. “Should I have let you die in the snow after you rescued me from the same fate? I don’t think so.” She rose from the rocker. “Now let’s get you into some dry clothes. The ice pack on your leg needs refreshing. You won’t need the others as long as your fever stays down.”
“Hold on. You need to get some sleep. If I’m not mistaken, you’ve been up most of the night. You kept the fire going, kept these icepacks filled and forced that bitter-tasting tea down me. You must be exhausted.”
“It was nothing I wouldn’t have done for anyone in a similar predicament.” She shrugged as if his litany of her good deeds wasn’t a big deal. “I might’ve dozed for a second here and there. I didn’t mean to.”
So he was nothing to her? Fine. “I’m awake. I’ll get up and—”
“Pinkerton! You’re not going anywhere. You need to stay off that leg another day at least. You need food…and a bath.”
“Only if you take one with me.” He grinned up at her and winked.
She rolled her eyes, and a hint of a smile twitched her full lips. “I’m afraid not. The copper tub isn’t big enough for two.”
“Wash my back?” he suggested hopefully.
“I think I could manage that sometime later.” Talia set her hands on her hips. “For now, you’ll have to settle for a sponge bath to prevent damage to your leg. You do remember you have a broken leg?”
He gritted his teeth. “Not likely to forget that.” Glancing at the empty bottle on the floor, he put on his most charming grin. “Any chance I could get more of that very fine pain medicine?”
Pursing her lips like a prissy schoolteacher, she nodded. “I suppose that could be managed, but I’ll be sure to ration it this time.”
Theatrically, he bowed his head and crossed his hands over his heart. “Cruelty, thy name is woman.”
“Hmph. It’s better than you deserve, Pinkerton.”
“Oh, so now that it’s certain I’ll live, you’re back to calling me Pinkerton.”
“Sí,” she said with no hint of expression.
Her nonchalance didn’t fool him. “And is that what you called me when I was delirious?” he said, challenging her to remember her softer side.
“You don’t remember?” She straightened his covers. “That’s unfortunate.” She turned to leave, then glanced over her shoulder and favored him with an arched smile. “Maybe it’ll come to you.”
“Ugh!” He grabbed the smaller icepack from the floor and tossed it at her shapely ass.
“You missed,” she said with a laugh, scurrying down the hallway.
Damn. As seductive as she was aggravating. Too bad he was already in love with her. A woman who had every reason to hate him. And one who had no intention of ever allowing another man into her life. Frowning, he rubbed his itching chin between his thumb and forefinger. If he didn’t shave soon, he’d have a full beard.
Marooned. Injured. Living the life of a virtual vagabond, he just never counted on falling in love with anyone—much less the subject of his investigation. That pretty much settled it. His life was fast on the road to hell in a hand-basket.
Natalia stopped in the hallway to catch her breath, leaning against the cool adobe wall. Dios. Jared’s little-boy appeal hadn’t gone away when he awakened. She could still see the glint of childlike mischief in his steel-gray gaze, as well as the deep hurt he hid so well behind his ruggedly handsome macho exterior. Relieved that his fever had broken but bone-tired, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for at least a week.
But such blissful rest wasn’t what the new day held. Her stomach growled, reminding her of the animals in the stabl
e. They hadn’t eaten either. And there was the cow to be milked.
Dress. Brave the icy wind and snow. Feed the animals. Muck the stable. Bring in more wood. Back to the ranch house. Fix breakfast. See to Jared’s injured leg.
Dios, the cold and the never-ending work was wearing her down. Her feet felt rooted to the floor. Slowly, she slid down the wall until…
She shook herself awake and stiffened her legs and back. No, keep moving. Don’t give in. Trudging into the kitchen, she grabbed a slice of bread from the keeper. She buttered it, even opened her mouth to bite into the yeasty goodness—
No. She shook her head and carried the bread to Jared, who looked up from fumbling with the cold pack on his leg. “This should hold you until I get back from the stable; then I’ll—”
“Forget about me. Talia, you’re pale. Dammit, you’re on the verge of collapse.” He swung his good leg off the chaise and set it on the floor. “Where’s the cane? I’ve lain around here long enough.” He threw the melted pack on the floor and, using both hands, gingerly lifted his injured leg off the chaise. “The cane?”
“No!” Did he think she couldn’t cope with a little extra work? “You need another day with that leg elevated. I’ll take care of the animals, fix breakfast, and then I’ll lie down for a while.”
He shook his head. “No. I can hobble around with the cane.” He looked from side to side, his gaze darting around the room. “Where’d you hide the damned thing?”
Natalia rolled her eyes. Honestly, men… “Under the chaise, next to your left foot. If it were a rattler, you’d be dead now.”
A little sheepishly, he grinned up at her. “So I see.” He bent over, snatched the ebony cane and gave it a twirl. “Very distinguished,” he said, then stroked his mustache with a dramatic flourish.
Stubborn oaf, yet charming. She couldn’t help but smile at his antics. “All right. If you insist on getting up, maybe you could manage breakfast while I’m outside?”
He raised his chin and glanced down his nose in a haughty manner. “I’ll have you know that on my travels, I’ve cooked over an open fire many a time.”
She set her hands on her hips. “Well, I hope you’re not planning on starting an open fire in my home, Pinkerton.”
“Gah! There you go, Pinkerton again.”
“It’s what you are.” Best not forget it, either—no matter how boyish and charming he was.
“It’s true. I came here under false pretenses. But I don’t believe for a minute you had your husband murdered.” His gaze held hers. For once, his expression was unclouded by any attempt to dissemble. “For the life of me, can’t think why you didn’t. Men have been murdered for less.”
His words touched and chilled her at the same time. “Purely and simply, I’m not a murderer. If I were, I would’ve already gotten rid of you.”
“May not be so easy to get rid of, Talia.” He burst out laughing; then his features contorted.
“You’re still in pain, aren’t you?”
“Not like I was yesterday. A shot of whiskey wouldn’t go amiss though.”
Grinning, Natalia shoved the bread in his face. “Eat this first. I’d hate to have a drunk set my kitchen on fire.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He took the bread from her and took the first bite. With his mouth still full, he mumbled, “This is the best bread I’ve ever eaten.”
She laughed. “You’re just hungry.” Heading toward the door, she stopped sharply and turned. In as innocent a tone as she could muster, she asked, “Do you need my assistance in the water closet?”
An expression of horror crossed his handsome face. “No!”
She chuckled, having just made the suggestion in the hopes of being rewarded with such a reaction. “All right, then. I’ll leave you to your morning ablutions with your modesty intact.” Served him right for being such a prude about his bodily needs when he was anything but a prude in bed.
Back to the kitchen, where she sliced another piece of bread and buttered it. She groaned with pleasure when she took a bite. Quickly, she finished breaking her fast. It would have to do for now.
Unable to avoid going outside any longer, she pulled the heavy overcoat from the hook by the door and shoved a Stetson on her head. On opening the door, she found a very different landscape. Snow had stopped falling, and the sun shone with a blinding brilliance across the fields. Melting ice steadily dripped from the edges of the tile roof. Wind blew from the south. Just maybe the snow would melt before winter set in for good.
But then Jared would leave.
As much as he’d angered her with his deception, she would miss his company. Miss arguing with him. Miss joking with him. And especially having him in her bed. What a revelation it was to have a lover who knew how to pleasure a woman when she’d had so little in her marriage. Hah! She’d experienced none there at all.
While she had trusted him with her body, trusting him with her heart was another matter. Did she dare take his words about working the ranch alongside her seriously? Could she trust him to keep his word and not abandon her if he grew tired of a rancher’s life?
Crossing the courtyard, she easily made her way through the trench to the stable. Outside the stable door, she could hear the fretful lowing of the milk cow and impatient neighing of the two horses. Poor creatures needed exercise. But that could wait.
Chapter Fourteen
Before tackling breakfast on the cookstove, Jared washed his face and cast a long glance at Montrose’s straight razor, then finger-combed his hair and headed to the kitchen.
Leaning on the serpent-headed cane in front of the cookstove, he shook his head and frowned. “Dang.” Building a fire was simple enough, but regulating it so that it would cook the food and not burn it was another issue. An open campfire was much less complicated.
He opened the iron door. “No time like the present.” He pulled wood from the basket by the cookstove and thrust it inside. Using a safety match, he lit a twisted piece of newspaper and set the wood alight. He waited until the fire was established, then shut and secured the door.
By poking around the icebox and the pantry, he located eggs, bacon and a heavy iron skillet. He placed bacon in the skillet and set it on the stove plate. While he waited for the bacon to fry, he found a bowl and broke five eggs into it with only a minimum of shell. He yanked open several drawers before he found a fork to whip the eggs.
Yeah, he could do a fine breakfast. Biscuits surely would be nice, but he didn’t have a clue how to bake anything like that. There was still half a loaf of bread in the keeper. That would have to do.
Trying to ignore the pain in his leg, he hummed while he whipped the eggs and listened to the sizzling and popping of the bacon while it cooked. He nosed over the skillet. Time to flip. Now where— Hell, he’d just use the fork.
Bacon was about to burn. Stove was too hot. He reached for the skillet to pull it off the stove. “Damn!” Should’ve wrapped the handle with a towel. Close call. He almost dropped their breakfast. Now his hand was burnt. Great. Fucking great.
Carefully, he grabbed a towel and folded it, then set the skillet to the side and turned the strips over. Grease popped on the back of his hand, and he almost dropped half their breakfast again. “Crap!” He sucked the burned spot. Ought to put some butter on it, but he was pulled in too many directions. Time to take up the bacon. By now it was—um, crisp.
Still edible. He’d eaten worse.
He found a clean dishtowel and set the bacon on it to drain. When Talia returned from the stable, he’d cook the eggs. No point in serving his hostess burnt bacon and rubbery eggs. She made cooking breakfast look simple as could be. Well, it wasn’t—not by a long shot—not on an unfamiliar cooking implement and with a bum leg to boot.
He limped over to a chair and sat, then pulled another chair around to face him, using it to prop his bad leg. “Whew.” He could take it easy until Talia returned. Now where was—
In his poking around, he hadn’t discovered Montrose�
�s liquor stash, and he could really use a pick-me-up. Then he spied the coffeepot on the back of the stove. Coffee. Yeah, coffee would do. Talia would appreciate a hot cup when she returned from the stable where she was doing the chores he ought to be doing.
He moved his bad leg from the chair and hobbled over to the stove. The heat from the stove lent the kitchen a homey atmosphere. Spending the rest of his life here with Talia didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Using water from the snow Talia had melted, he dipped the coffee pot into the large copper kettle.
Now where was the coffee? Damn. Why couldn’t anything be easy? He limped into the pantry and inspected several containers. Finally he found the coffee. Now at least he could brew her a cup of coffee and earn his keep while she was outside doing a man’s work. No matter what she said about her strength and ability to stand alongside any man, he’d clearly seen how exhausted she was from watching over him all night.
Not since his mother had anyone shown him as much care as Talia had. Talia, the wild, temperamental and passionate woman he’d always dreamed of but never thought existed.
After setting the coffeepot onto the stove, he shuffled back to his chair, leaned back and waited for the coffee to percolate.
His eyelids grew heavy. About to nod off, he shook himself awake in time to see Talia dragging a load of firewood across the courtyard. He got to his feet to open the door and motioned with a come-here gesture. “Let me. Nothing wrong with my arms.”
She shot him a grateful smile but shook her head. “Wait until I get to the door; otherwise you might slip.”
He nodded but chafed at watching her small frame tugging the heavy load of firewood. “It’s stopped snowing,” he said, amazed he hadn’t noticed earlier.
“Sí. The wind has died down, and the sun is out, and it’s melting ice and snow off the roof.”
Was it possible the weather would improve enough for him to get back to town? Damn. He didn’t want to leave her, and just how much he didn’t want that shook him. “But there’s still no way to travel safely. I don’t know the area well enough to risk endangering my horse.”
Taming Talia Page 13
