Tracker’s Sin

by Sarah McCarty

  “Looks like stew and biscuits. Will that do?”

  She blinked at the mundane question, then smiled. His mouth took on the softness that told her he was thinking about kissing her. Weakness assaulted her knees. Good heavens, the man was potent.

  “I could eat cooked rat right now.”

  He faked a shudder. “Speak for yourself. I don’t think I could ever be that hungry.”

  She knew that wasn’t true. In the quiet moments after making love, he’d given her a brief rundown of how the men of Hell’s Eight had managed after their parents had been killed. It was by what he didn’t say that she knew how bad it had been. They’d almost starved to death.

  She didn’t contradict him, though. Tonight was not the time for that kind of memory. Tonight was about letting go of the past and greeting the future. For both of them. And she wanted to begin this right.

  Tracker lifted the lid of a small blue crock on the stove. “How would you feel about honey for your biscuits?”

  “Oh, yes!”

  He gave her another one of those hot looks that she usually missed because he was hiding behind his hat brim. He hid a lot behind that hat brim. “Damn, I think I’m jealous of the biscuits.”

  She found the silverware in a drawer. Closing it, she shook her head. He made her feel young and silly and very desired. “Well, if you’re good, maybe later I’ll see what else I like honey on.”

  Hooking his hand behind her neck as she passed, he pulled her to him. She loved it when he did that. There was such possession in the gesture. It said more clearly than anything else “this woman is mine.” And if she was quick enough to look into his eyes before their mouths connected, she’d see the anticipation he felt.

  He tugged and she went, leading with her heart, because with him, she’d never had a chance. His kiss was hot and hard. Her response was just as hot, just as hard. He let her go, a smile on his lips. “Stop distracting me, woman. I’m hungry.”

  “You kissed me.”

  “Hmm, and what did you expect, when you’re flaunting those pretty breasts at me?”

  Looking down, she gasped. Her impromptu wrapper gaped open. She quickly clutched it closed.

  “Don’t bother on my account.”

  She rolled her eyes. “What if someone saw?”

  “There’s no one around to see.”

  “What if someone comes in?”

  “I’d hear them first.” He took the plates over to the table. Pulling out a chair, he stood behind it and waited. For her, she realized. It was a display of manners men reserved for ladies. And he was doing it for her. A smile lit her from the inside out and the niggle of doubt that he only wanted her for sex died.

  She sat. As he walked around the table to take his own seat, he said, “You’ve got to have more faith, Ari. You’re married to one of Hell’s Eight. We have the hearing of wolves.”

  “Another trait is the inflated impression of their abilities.”

  Ari would recognize that voice anywhere. It was an exact duplicate of her own. She turned and glared at Tracker. “You didn’t hear that.”

  Or had he? He didn’t look surprised at all. As a matter of fact, he looked a bit satisfied.

  “Damn you. When did you plan this?” she demanded.

  “Ari…”

  She ignored Desi. Tracker didn’t flinch from the accusation. “When you were asleep.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s family.”

  And family was everything to him. “It was none of your business.”

  “Maybe not.”

  There was no maybe about it.

  “I asked him to do it.” Desi stood in the doorway, a white silk wrapper tied around her slender body. Her expression was strained, her eyes anxious.

  “So I shouldn’t be mad at him, because he betrayed me, too?”

  “No one betrayed you.”

  “I trusted you.”

  He took a forkful of food. “And you still do. You’re just mad because I forced your hand.”

  She wanted to throw her plate at him.

  “Don’t.” The warning was so low that only she heard it. “Give her a chance, Ari.”

  “Please,” Desi whispered. “Talk to me.”

  Tracker nodded. “Talk to her.”

  “Fine.” Ari glared harder at Tracker and said to Desi, “That’s a nice robe.”

  Desi tightened the belt of her wrap. Another sign that she was nervous. Ari looked around the rough-hewn kitchen. The wrapper was certainly more expensive than her surroundings would suggest Caine could afford.

  Desi fiddled with the ties and looked away, a flush touching her cheeks. “Caine has it in his head that I have to have nice things.”

  “He knows what you gave up,” Tracker said. “He doesn’t want you to regret it.”

  “It was an easy trade. When it comes to a choice between love or money, the only choice is love. When are you going to understand that?”

  “Maybe when love starts putting food on the table.”

  Desi rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll check back with you then.”

  “Deal. In the meantime, you just go and let Caine spoil you as much as he sees fit.”

  “I do,” Desi said. “I just worry that the ranch will suffer.”

  Tracker shook his head. “There’s no way. No matter how much Caine wants to spoil you, he won’t put the ranch at risk. It’s your livelihood, his dream, your future. He knows that.”

  Desi nodded and continued to stand in the doorway like an intruder in her own home. Ari waffled between pity and anger. It took her a moment to realize why. She was jealous. Of her sister.

  She pushed the food around her plate. Darn it. Life was simpler when it was a lie.

  Tracker touched her foot under the table. She glanced up. Both he and Desi were staring at her. Waiting for her to say something. She didn’t know what to say.

  She settled for, “It’s good that he loves you.”

  Desi’s smile was a mere stretch of her lips.

  Tracker looked disappointed. “You haven’t seen your sister in over a year. Is that the best you can do?”

  “You didn’t ask my permission to start this. You don’t get to complain when it doesn’t go the way you want.”

  “Ari!”

  This time she glared at her twin, the feeling of being trapped growing. “Stay out of it, Desi.”

  “He just wanted you to be happy.”

  “He can’t control everything.”

  Tracker’s chair scraped across the floor as he stood. “I’m sorry, Desi. This was the wrong place.”

  “Not to mention the wrong time,” Ari muttered, feeling small after the surge of anger faded. She’d wanted to talk to her sister in her own time, in her own way, when the rage had subsided. When she could do it without breaking down.

  Tracker grabbed his plate and silverware. “You two have things to talk about. I’m going to leave you to it.”

  If he thought he was leaving her with this mess, he had another think coming. Grabbing her own plate, she caught up to him in four strides.

  “Where are we going?”

  “On a picnic, I guess.”

  “It’s night.”

  “I’m still hungry.”

  Her appetite had long since fled.

  “The picnic basket is beside the door,” Desi offered. Ari admired her for the self-control that allowed her to make the suggestion. Ari was afraid if she tried to speak, she’d burst either into tears or screams.

  Tracker picked up the basket with his free hand and nodded to Desi. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t need you to apologize for me,” Ari told him.

  “Apparently, you do.”

  The censure hurt. “She’s my sister.”

  “And my friend. You got a point in there somewhere?”

  She did, but one look at Desi’s face killed the impulse. She was suffering.

  Desi ran her hand through her hair. “Don’t let what you think I did come betwee
n you two. I’m not worth it.”

  I’m not worth it.

  How many times had Ari felt just that way? How many times had she had those same thoughts? How many times had she let that feeling of being so low she wasn’t worth noticing make her decisions for her? Most recently, when they’d taken Miguel away. She hadn’t fetched him back because she’d thought he deserved better. She was his mother and she loved him, but part of her couldn’t shake the belief that by keeping him with her she was dooming him to a life of hell. She wanted him to have a better life, so she’d been prepared to sacrifice herself.

  Looking into Desi’s eyes now, she saw the same sacrifice. She and her sister had come so far, but parts of them were still out on the plains, lost and looking for a way home. She wanted to hug Desi. She wanted to run. She didn’t do either. She just stood there, her thoughts turning in her head.

  Tracker opened the back door. Humid night air entered the room. Finally, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to be like this.”

  “I understand.”

  The hell of it was, she probably did. Ari asked, “Is Miguel all right?”

  “He misses you.”

  “I miss him, too.”

  “I’ll bring him over tomorrow.”

  She had to start moving forward sometime. Tomorrow was as good a day as any. “Thank you.”

  Ari’s hand was cramping from holding the plate. She didn’t want the food, didn’t want the confrontation. She didn’t want to be this way with Desi, but whenever she looked at her twin, she couldn’t forget that when it’d come to the moment of truth, Desi had saved herself. And after saving herself, she hadn’t sent help. Ari had counted on that help. Prayed for it. Believed in it as she’d been passed from man to man, sold and used. Rescue had never come.

  And now she found out that while Ari had been suffering, Desi had been falling in love. Getting married. Having a baby. Part of her was happy for her sister. The other part was bitterly resentful, and there wasn’t any apparent way of resolving the two. What Desi had was what Ari would have wished for her if she’d had a choice. It was not having the choice that burned like acid.

  Tracker nudged her arm with his elbow. “Let’s go.”

  If she had any guts at all, Ari would kick him in the balls. It was because of Tracker’s highhandedness that her night of new beginnings had gone to hell. She glared at him. He cocked an eyebrow at her.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You’ve got to eat. You’ve got a child to feed. You know that.”

  “My milk dried up. You know that.” She refused to blush when she recalled how he knew.

  “It might come back with some good food and relaxing.”

  “And it might not.”

  “Borrowing trouble, sweets?”

  Yes, she believed she was.

  Tracker nodded and motioned for her to go through the door. “Thank you for dinner, Desi.” To Ari he said, “Let’s go.”

  Tracker’s face looked as grim as the reaper’s. It was dark outside. Hardly inviting. She hesitated. He jerked his chin again. “Come on.”

  As soon as she got out the door, he stopped and pushed his plate into her hands before putting the basket on the ground.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I forgot the lantern.”

  Two minutes later he was back.

  “Where are we going?” she demanded.

  “To someplace special.”

  “What could be so special that I need to go see it in the middle of the night?”

  “Trust me.”

  “I did, and look where it got me.”

  He let that slide. Taking her elbow, he guided her around the house, the bouncing light from the lantern illuminating a faint path. As they went down a small slope, she could hear water running over rocks, but she couldn’t see past the pool of light to where it originated. She looked back over her shoulder. A light still shone in the kitchen, but there was no sign of Desi. Ari shook her head against the onslaught of emotion that brought. Sadness. Loss. Too much of everything, when she felt as fragile as glass.

  Tracker stopped. She had the impression of openness.

  “We’re here.”

  “The tone of your voice doesn’t imply being here is going to be much fun.”

  “I’m not in the mood for fun.”

  “Well, neither am I, so why don’t we just go back home?”

  “I’m not happy with how you treated Desi.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have ambushed me with the meeting.”

  “You’re right.” He sighed and took something out of the basket. When he snapped it in the air, she realized it was a blanket. “I guess I just thought you’d see each other and find the closeness again.”

  “Maybe the problem is we’re too close.”

  “Can’t be too close with family. When all is said and done, they’re all you have.”

  “I know, but, Tracker, you can’t rush me.”

  An expression she couldn’t decipher flitted across his face. “I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t want to talk anymore about the things she couldn’t fix. She sat. “Why are we here in the dark?” she asked, slapping her shoulder. “Besides providing dinner for the mosquitoes, I mean.”

  Tracker squatted beside her and cupped her chin in his hand. His expression was deadly serious. “A chance to talk.”

  Oh, God. Not more talk. “About what?”

  “The day after tomorrow at the latest, we’ll be settling accounts with Amboy.”

  “We being you and the rest of Hell’s Eight?”

  “I’m not anticipating any problems, but you never know. I doubt your Mr. Amboy will be coming alone.”

  “You have to be careful.”

  “I’m always careful, but chance is a fickle thing. If something happens to me, I want to know you’re safe. I want to know you’ve got your family.”

  He was talking about Desi. Ari shook her head and fisted her hands. “I look at Desi and I see her walking away, leaving me behind. No matter how much I want to forgive her, I can’t.”

  “It might be easier if you heard her side.”

  “I know, but what if I do and I still can’t forgive? What do I do then? I don’t want to lose my sister forever. I don’t.”

  “Then you come back and you try again until you do find the forgiveness. You’ve got a big heart, Ari. You forgave me for the way I look, for the way I behave. You’re even halfway to forgiving Josefina and Vincente.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You’ve lost the anger when you say their names.”

  “In a way, their lies were a blessing. They allowed me to know you without the scars of the past.”

  “I can understand that, but if you forgive them, why not Desi?”

  “It’s different with her.”

  “Because you love her.”

  “Yes.”

  “I want this settled, Ari.”

  “I can’t.”

  A twig snapped behind her. He held her chin when she would’ve looked.

  “I want it settled now.”

  Tracker didn’t reach for his gun. She knew who was behind her.

  She couldn’t go through this again. “Don’t ask this of me, Tracker.”

  “I’m asking.”

  “It’s not fair.”

  “I never said it was, but I’m still asking.” His thumb brushed her lips. “Just remember, she’s hurting, too.”

  Ari could see that. Desi walked into the lamplight. Her arms were wrapped around her abdomen, as if she’d taken one blow too many. Tear tracks stained her cheeks. Her eyes were red, her face blotchy.

  A crack appeared in Ari’s anger. So much pain. For both of them. “Oh, Desi.”

  Tracker stood. Desi came to the edge of the blanket. She stopped dead, as if it were a border that couldn’t be crossed.

  Tracker held out his hand. Ari put hers in it, feeling as if she was about to step off a ledge. “Liste
n to her, Ari. At least do that.”

  Ari nodded.

  “I didn’t leave you,” Desi whispered.

  “I was there. I saw what happened.”

  “I know how it looked—”

  “I’ll get over it.”

  “Ari,” Tracker warned.

  She turned on him. “Why should I believe whatever she says?”

  He squeezed her hand and dragged her off the blanket into the middle of the open area. The ground was soft and springy under her feet. She could see flashes of white as the lantern swayed. Tracker halted. “This is why.”

  He held the lantern high. Little white flowers dotted the ground. In daylight the leaves of the flowers would be green, but at night they appeared black, making the contrast even more startling. Tracker let go of her and bent down and plucked a flower. Ari knew what it was before he shoved it into her hand. It was a daisy. Just like the ones in the meadow back home behind the summer house. The meadow where she and her sister had played, dreamed, made promises to each other. Fanciful ones made with a child’s belief that they could control life through sheer force of will. Where they promised to always protect each other. Where they promised to always stand up for one another and never let anything or anyone come between them.

  “I don’t know much about what your home life was like when you were little.” He pointed to the flower. “But I know what that is.”

  “What?”

  He waved his hand to encompass the meadow. “This is a hard land, Ari. It takes a toll on everything that tries to put down roots. By rights, not a single flower should survive here. But they’re not dead. And neither are you.”

  He shone the lantern in Desi’s direction. “And neither is your sister.”

  Desi sobbed and her hand covered her mouth.

  “I may not know everything I should, but I know what that is in your hand. It stands for a promise from your sister to you. A promise kept.”

  And we’ll protect each other forever.

  “How did you know?”

  “I didn’t, but no one works that hard to make the impossible happen without a reason. These flowers are alive because they mean something to both of you. Something so important, Desi wouldn’t let them die, despite the backbreaking work it took to keep them alive.”

  Ari covered her mouth and stared at her sister, the daisies and then back at her sister. “Oh, God. Desi.”