The Rancher's Courtship & Lone Wolf's Lady

by Laurie Kingery

  That was good because Tom planned to take Lobo back to Stillwater with them. Sarah Jane needed the extra protection the dog would provide.

  Trapper grinned, his eyes crinkling. “Did you know that little girl snuck Lobo into her room last night after she thought Hannah went to sleep?”

  “Does Hannah know?” Tom didn’t think so. Hannah had always been pretty fussy about animals sleeping in the house. It had taken him a long time and a lot of coaxing to talk her into just letting Lobo come inside on occasion.

  Trapper chuckled. “Yep, only a blind woman would miss seein’ the dog hair on the sheets. But Hannah didn’t say nothing about it at all for fear Sarah Jane would run off and sleep in the barn with him and me.”

  Tom couldn’t help but smile. “It sounds like Sarah Jane is starting to feel at home here.”

  “I think so, too. And I gotta tell you, I hope your plan don’t work out and she comes back with you.”

  “Don’t hope too hard, old man. If my plan doesn’t work, there’s a good chance none of us will come back.”

  * * *

  Bright and early the next morning, with a knife in his boot, a gun on his hip and a Winchester rifle attached to his saddle, Tom got ready to return to the Lazy G.

  Hannah had tried to hide her tears while fussing over Sarah Jane. It tore at Tom to see her fretful and sad. He would have given anything to let Sarah Jane stay, but there was no other way.

  Besides, he’d promised Harrison he’d bring her back. And the Lazy G belonged to Sarah Jane—not to Randolph Haney.

  As he adjusted the saddle on Gully Washer, he heard footsteps and glanced up. Katie, again dressed in denim and flannel, approached. She appeared comfortable in his outgrown clothing, filling it out in a way that made him struggle not to gawk at her.

  She tucked her thumbs in the back pocket of her jeans. “Can I talk to you before we leave?”

  “Sure,” he said.

  “There’s something I have to tell you, something I think you should know.”

  “What’s that?”

  She paused, as if she’d come to confess something that was sure to ruin his entire day, maybe something that would ruin his entire life.

  And knowing Katie O’Malley as he’d come to know her, he didn’t doubt it for a moment. She was as unpredictable as she was lovely.

  “Spit it out.”

  She stood tall, and as was her habit, she lifted her chin. “I’m not sure what will happen when we return to the Lazy G, but I want you to know...”

  He’d never seen her at a loss for words, which ought to worry him. “What did you do?”

  The question seemed to take her aback. “I didn’t do anything. It’s just that I... Well, I’ve come to admire and respect you.”

  Was there a “But” coming from her?

  “I care for you, Tom McCain.”

  The muscles in his cheeks tightened, and the proverbial cat not only caught his tongue but ran off with it.

  Of all the things she could have told him, of all the things she could have said to put his life on edge, to set him off balance, he’d never expected that. She admired and respected him? And she cared about him?

  Where had a confession like that come from? And why had she felt the need to tell him now?

  And what in the world did she expect him to do with it? Admit that he was feeling something for her, too?

  Well, maybe he was, but nothing could come of it. Loving Katie O’Malley would be the death of him.

  What did she expect him to do now? Weaken and say something soft and sentimental?

  He thought back to the first kiss they’d shared. She’d wanted it as badly as he had. And just like that, she’d slapped him.

  “Don’t say things like that, Katie.”

  She crossed her arms. “Don’t you care for me at all?”

  Care for her? Yes, but did he dare admit that kind of vulnerability to a woman like her, a woman who had the power to break his heart when she came to her senses?

  “I care for you,” he admitted. “But if you’re suggesting anything more than friendship, you’re overlooking the obvious.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The difference in our skin color.”

  “I don’t give a fig about that.”

  Knowing Katie, she probably didn’t. But that’s not where the problem lay, and she ought to be bright enough to figure that out.

  “Not all people are as broad-minded as you are,” he said.

  She sighed, then offered him an impish grin. “You do have a point, I suppose. I’ve been cursed with skin that sunburns easily and freckles beyond compare. I’ve learned to live with it, in spite of all the taunts I had in the schoolyard. I’m just surprised that you’re allowing it to bother you.”

  “Don’t make light of this, Katie. Do you have any idea how difficult life would be if you and I were to start courting?”

  “I couldn’t care less.”

  “Well, I care a great deal. I’ve seen how cruel some people can be. And I won’t allow them to hurt you the way they’ve hurt me.”

  “People have said a lot of cruel things to me over the years, and I’ve learned to overlook them.”

  That might be true, but she brought on a lot of her trouble just by speaking her mind. A little common sense and tact would make her life much easier. She had no idea how difficult things would be if the two of them even considered something romantic—no matter how appealing the thought might be to either of them.

  But if they were to succumb to temptation and marry, what about a child they might conceive? Would their son or daughter grow up to have a happy, charmed life?

  That was highly unlikely. Besides, Tom had given up the thought of fathering a child a long time ago. He wouldn’t risk putting a kid through something like that.

  So he decided to diffuse her romantic thoughts, even if it set her off again.

  “The last thing either of us needs to do is to act on any feelings we might have for each other,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “When I fall in love, it’ll be for keeps. My wife will have to promise to love me—and to obey me. And you’d be hard-pressed to make a vow like that, let alone keep it.”

  “If I ever marry anyone, he would have to agree upon our marriage being a partnership.”

  “Something tells me that a partnership with a woman like you wouldn’t be good enough. You’d want to wear the pants in the family.” He glanced down at the outfit she wore, the britches that had once been his.

  He hadn’t been trying to make a point, it just seemed to...jump out at him.

  “You told me to wear your pants to make traveling easier,” she said. “Tom McCain, you are the most exasperating...” She lifted her hand as if she were going to shake her finger at him—or maybe even let him have it. Then she lowered it almost as quickly, turned on her heel and marched away.

  As Tom watched her stride from the barn, he told himself how much better off they both were now that she’d gotten any foolish romantic notions out of her head.

  Of course, they might be better off, but the ride to Stillwater was going to be one of the longest trips he’d ever had to make—even if it was only ten hours.

  * * *

  As they prepared to leave, Katie berated her foolishness. Why had she thought telling Tom how she’d come to feel about him would make things better, easier?

  Thank goodness she’d never mentioned love, because just admitting that she’d come to care about him hadn’t gone over as she’d hoped it would.

  She’d hoped it would make them a better team, a stronger team. And she’d hoped that he would have...

  What? Told her he was falling in love with her, too?

  She grabbed the reins and placed a foot in the stirrup, the leather groaning as she swung herself up on Gu
lly Washer. She’d almost bared her soul to Tom, revealing feelings too new and too vulnerable to be exposed. Instead she’d only tiptoed around it.

  Tom placed Sarah Jane behind the saddle of his gelding, then mounted. And without a backward glance, they were off.

  Every once in a while, Katie ventured a surreptitious glance at him, hoping to catch a glimpse of emotion, an indication that he struggled with his feelings, too. Instead, she saw a stoic profile.

  So be it. She’d just have to put it all behind her, too. She cleared her throat and spoke to Sarah Jane. “How are you doing, honey?”

  The little girl smiled and pointed to the big dog trotting alongside the gelding.

  “You’re happy Lobo gets to come along?”

  Sarah Jane nodded, eyes glimmering. It was good to see a spark of life returning to her. Katie had worried more than she let on that Sarah Jane might not fully recover. Maybe the child’s voice would return soon.

  Tom turned in the saddle, giving Sarah Jane a warm smile. “Let me know if you need to stop, sweetheart.”

  Katie adjusted the old gray felt hat she wore, tilting the floppy brim to block the sun, as well as Tom’s profile.

  She wished she could block out her disappointment and the ache in her heart just as easily.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Jeremiah heard McCain had gone to Pleasant Valley to get Caroline’s daughter, he’d tried his best to pick up the half-breed’s trail, but he hadn’t had any luck at all. Fearing that he might lose track of McCain altogether, he’d chosen another tactic and had gone back to the Lazy G, hoping to catch him on the way back.

  If McCain planned to bring the kid to the ranch, they’d have to ride through the pass, so Jeremiah would wait on the bluff, with the sun on his back, and pick them off like tin cans on a fence post.

  Then, finally, the killing could stop.

  Every now and again he had a pang of conscience, but he wasn’t a real murderer. If he was, he wouldn’t have spared Martha’s life when she accused him of fathering Caroline’s baby and threatened to tell Harrison the wild story she’d dreamed up.

  Jeremiah wasn’t the father of Caroline’s brat, but he had gone to great lengths to make sure Harrison didn’t know the kid even existed.

  And what about Caroline? Her death had been an accident, really. Her own fault, not his.

  If she’d only kept her mouth shut, if she hadn’t tried to run, she’d be alive today. But no, she had to threaten to tell the Taylorsville sheriff that Jeremiah had taken advantage of her. And he’d done no such thing. He’d offered to pay her for her favors.

  Sure, she’d sniffled and cried after, but the tears had been for effect, to make him feel guilty. But Caroline had wanted him as badly as he’d wanted her. Women just didn’t find it easy to come out and admit it. It was a game they all played.

  Besides, she’d been born a harlot. Oh, she’d looked pure, even as a child, but she wasn’t. She might have fooled Harrison, but she’d never fooled Jeremiah.

  That’s why she’d always avoided being alone with him whenever he’d visited the ranch.

  Overhead, a flock of sparrows took flight. No use dawdling. He may as well get himself ready and in place.

  Jeremiah stroked the butt of the rifle strapped to the side of his horse. Then he placed a booted toe in the stirrup and swung a leg over the saddle. He clicked his tongue. “Come on, boy. We’re going to wait them out in the perfect spot.”

  But three hours later, in that prime location, as the sun burned high overhead, Jeremiah lowered the spyglass and cursed.

  He could have sworn they’d come this way. Getting rid of them would be easier away from the ranch. He reached into his saddlebag, pulled an apple from his dwindling supplies and buffed it against the sleeve of his shirt before taking a bite.

  It was hot today, and he was getting anxious to sleep in his feather bed instead of on the hard ground. He seated himself on the flat side of a big gray rock, drew up a knee and tilted his hat. He’d wait one more day before going back, but not with his tail between his legs. Of course, he had a secondary plan. A wise man always did. But he preferred to do it this way. Fewer questions asked, fewer answers needed.

  When he bit into the apple, a burst of sweetness filled his mouth. A dribble of juice spilled between his lips and ran down his chin. He caught it with a shirtsleeve.

  He liked apples. Fresh off the tree, stewed or baked in a pie. Martha used to make the best apple cobbler. That was one of the things he missed most. That and the lively tunes she played on the fancy piano he’d bought her.

  He shook his head. He could live without cobbler and music. And had Martha carried out her threat to tell Harrison Graves what that private investigator had told her, he stood to give up a lot more than that. All Jeremiah had to do was to keep Martha quiet until after Harrison died. With Caroline gone—and no kid in sight—the estate would pass to Jeremiah’s father and ultimately to him.

  Martha’s father might be angry if she ran home to him in tears, but her daddy’s ranch paled in comparison to the Lazy G. Besides, Martha would come to her senses in time.

  Jeremiah reached for the spyglass and placed it to his eye. “Well, what do you know? McCain chose this route after all.”

  And Katie O’Malley rode with them.

  Jeremiah had thought she was just a nosy do-gooder, but he’d underestimated her. Apparently, she had plans of her own to lay claim to the Lazy G. What a pity. He’d hoped she might prove to be a willing lover during her brief visit. Now her visit would have to be cut short.

  He slipped the rifle from the pouch, raised the weapon, adjusted the scope and aimed carefully.

  Just a little bit closer. Then it would all be over.

  The killing would stop.

  * * *

  It was nearing the end of the trail. As much as Katie would have willed it otherwise, she and Tom had yet to strike up a friendly conversation since she’d opened her heart to him in Hannah’s barn.

  Instead, he’d pushed hard for them to return to the Lazy G by nightfall.

  Katie rode Gully Washer, Hannah’s mare, while Sarah Jane rode with Tom on Caballo and Lobo trotted along beside them.

  The blazing sun had finally lowered into the west, but the air was still too warm for comfort. What little breeze came their way only served to chap her lips and parch her throat.

  Katie wiped the perspiration from her brow. She figured they must be getting close to the ranch. The land looked vaguely familiar.

  “How much longer will it take to get there?” she asked.

  “About an hour’s ride once we enter the pass. It’s just up ahead.” Tom scanned the rocky horizon.

  She’d noticed that his vigilance had increased the longer they rode and the closer they got to the Lazy G. If there was something she’d learned in the past few days, it was to trust his instincts.

  But she didn’t want Sarah Jane to sense her apprehension, so she said, “I’m looking forward to arriving back in civilization.”

  Tom stopped abruptly, the gelding sidestepping, snorting and throwing its head. “Hold up.”

  Katie pulled back on the reins. “What is it?”

  “Up there. Near the top of the ledge.” He didn’t point. He merely nodded to the west. “Do you see the glare of sunlight reflecting off something?”

  She placed a hand over her brow and searched, her eyes catching a glimmer of light. “Yes. What is it?”

  “My guess is a gun barrel. Come on, we’ve got to make sure we’re out of range. Then we’ll take an alternate route.”

  He reached for Sarah Jane’s hands, making sure they were snug around his waist. “You’ll need to hold on really tight, sweetheart. We’re going to ride hard and fast.”

  The child nodded, her eyes bright and trusting.

  “Good girl,” he told her.

&n
bsp; As they turned, a shot ricocheted off a rock near the horses’ hooves.

  Tom cursed under his breath. “Hang on, Sarah Jane. Let’s go.”

  Another shot rang out, this one grazing Katie’s head. Afraid to take time to assess the damage, she ignored the sting of her brow and urged the mare to follow Tom and Sarah Jane. Several more shots followed, but she doubted they remained within the rifleman’s range.

  Something warm eased onto her eyelid, and she quickly swiped a hand across her face to clear her vision. Her fingers felt damp and sticky, yet she didn’t dare look at them. She didn’t have to. She’d been shot.

  Afraid to do anything but follow Tom’s lead, ride fast and hold on for her life, Katie looped the excess rein around the saddle horn and gripped it tightly. At first, she worried that Lobo had taken a bullet, or that he wouldn’t keep up, but he ran to the side of them, his strides even, his tongue hanging from his mouth.

  Then, as the thundering hooves plowed on, she worried about her own ability to keep up. Tom had slowed the pace, but still they all rode hard. Her head hurt and a wave of dizziness made it difficult to focus, but she didn’t dare complain.

  When Tom glanced over his shoulder, perhaps to see if she still followed behind, his expression grew solemn and he halted the ride.

  “You’ve been shot,” he said. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  Katie tried to read his expression, but his features all blurred together.

  “You didn’t ask,” she said, her words ringing and spinning and echoing in her ears.

  She clutched at the pommel with clammy, tingling hands. She probably looked a fright, and she hoped the sight of blood wouldn’t upset Sarah Jane.

  “I’m all right,” she told the child. “Don’t worry about me, honey.”

  But as she tried to manage a smile to reinforce the assurance, the world began to spin all around, and darkness enveloped her.

  She was going to collapse, and there wasn’t a single thing she could do about it except hope and pray Tom wouldn’t leave her in the dirt.