Blue Dalton

by Tara Janzen

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  “So do I. Have you checked with anybody about the value?”

  “Without the pieces, he couldn’t give me a price.”

  “But I bet he tried to follow you.”

  She nodded slowly, admitting to the first mistake she’d made when she’d started her quest. She’d approached the dealer with a story something along the lines of “a friend of mine,” but soon realized she hadn’t fooled him. She’d lost the man somewhere in New Mexico, and after that she’d kept her mouth shut.

  “You need me,” he said. “Not only for the directions but for protection.”

  “I can take care of myself. I’ve got Trapper, and if you’ll give it back, I have my rifle.” She wanted to call him a liar and be done with him but knew she couldn’t. What he’d said explained too many things, filled in too many gaps, especially the bitterness her father had drawn around him like a cloak of shadow, a bitterness Blue swore had killed her mother before her time. She didn’t accept Walker’s story as a claim on her fortune, but she did accept it as truth. Lacey, and Lacey’s Lode, didn’t leave her much choice.

  “Your dog is out of commission, and with me you won’t need to use your rifle. I’ll take care of any shooting that needs to be done.”

  Blue lowered her chin and rubbed her hand over her eyes, trying to think things through before she made another mistake. He’d bombarded her with too much information, and none of it what she’d wanted to hear. Lacey Evans, Walker’s mother, the love of her father’s life—it was all ancient history, and it was all too much.

  Stupid girl. She’d thought her father’s will was his final test for her, one last attempt from the grave to make her into the son he’d never had. Considering how he had treated her mother, she’d always thought he was damn lucky even to have gotten a daughter.

  “Damn him,” she murmured, squeezing her eyes tighter. She’d loved him despite his insensitive expectations, despite his drunken benders. She’d loved him, and he was still letting her down. The last thing he’d left her wasn’t even his to give, not according to Walker Evans. Damn him, too.

  A warm hand touched her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  Blue shrugged him off and turned her back on him, taking a couple of steps toward the fireplace. She dropped her hand to her side. “This is the deal. Take it or leave it. You give me the directions, and I’ll give you the starting mark. Best man wins.”

  Her terminology brought a frown to Walker’s face. The slender body and slight shoulders in front of him didn’t belong to a man, and her confidence was way out of proportion with the facts. “I’ve already out-tracked you once, Blue. What makes you think I can’t do it twice?”

  Nothing made her think he couldn’t do it twice. She covered her face with her hand again and wrapped her other arm around her waist. She was slipping up, getting careless. She didn’t know what to do anymore.

  “Why don’t we try my plan. Fifty-fifty. In a couple of days we can part company, both a little richer than when we met.”

  No. No. No. She hardened her resolve with each silent repetition. She hadn’t come this far, she hadn’t shot one man and outwitted four others to walk away with half. He’d been right last night. Lacey’s Lode belonged to the person who found it; no other claim would stand up in court. She had to get there first and alone.

  “Okay,” she said, lifting her chin and staring at the clock on the fireplace mantel. A long sigh escaped her. “We’ll do it your way. We’ll start in the morning, early.” It was ten o’clock. She had about eight hours before first light, eight hours to figure out a way to get the directions out of his head without him getting the mark out of hers.

  Relief relaxed Walker’s shoulders. He lifted his hand to the back of his neck and rubbed the tightness out of his muscles. “Good. We better hit the sack.” The long hours of the day and the even longer hours of the night had worn him out, not physically but emotionally. Over the years he’d made a fine art out of avoiding just the kind of mess he’d been in since he’d taken off after her, or rather, since he’d caught her. Tracking her down hadn’t sapped his strength nearly as much as dealing with her had.

  “Fine.” Blue looked around the cabin and saw her backpack where she’d dropped it by the door. She crossed the room and picked it up, then made a silent gesture for Trapper to follow. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, instantly alert again.

  “To get some sleep,” she explained the obvious with a tired sigh, as if any fool could see what she was doing.

  “You’re not camping out tonight, and you’re not sleeping in the barn.”

  “Well, I’m sure as hell not sleeping with you,” she muttered, slipping the pack straps over her shoulders. Immediate realization of what she’d said stopped her with the pack only half on. She glanced up at him, hoping he hadn’t heard, but one glance told her he’d heard plenty.

  His easy grin barely held back the laughter she saw crinkling his eyes. “Nobody asked you to, Blue. You can have my bed. I’ve already moved into Janelle’s old room.”

  “No thanks.” She shrugged into the pack and wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

  “I’m still not asking.”

  “You’re telling me?” Her voice rose skeptically, along with both of her eyebrows. The man didn’t know enough to quit while he was ahead.

  “I’m offering you a bed and a hot bath. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow. I want you rested.”

  She gave him a long-suffering glance. “I’ve never had anything but long days. One more isn’t going to kill me.”

  Once again her statement told him more than he thought she wanted him to know. He’d had his share of long days, too, and they hadn’t killed him either, but somehow he found himself wishing she hadn’t had things as bad. He found himself wondering about the life that made her the woman she was—totally uncompromising, infinitely capable, knowledgeable about survival in the mountains, and incredibly naive about everything else.

  “Take the bed and the bath, Blue. You look like you could use both. Tomorrow you can prove to me how tough you are.”

  Blue looked up, surprised by the gentleness in his voice. He wasn’t laughing at her now. In fact, he almost sounded as if he cared. She hadn’t had someone care about her since her father had died, not that he had really cared for her. But she couldn’t deny the flicker of response she felt when Walker spoke so softly to her. The man had a way about him, a way of making her feel safe when she shouldn’t, a way of making her say yes when she should say no.

  With feigned nonchalance she let the pack slip back to the floor. “I need to take a walk, just be outside for a while. That jail cell was kind of . . . kind of . . .”

  “I know. I’ll wait up.”

  Confused as much by her feelings as his kindness, Blue nodded and let herself out the door, taking Trapper with her.

  Walker listened to her cross the front porch, then the silence as she stepped onto the ground.

  He had to force himself not to go after her, to make sure she found her way, to make sure she came back, and he knew the last reason had nothing to do with Dalton’s Treasure or Lacey’s Lode and everything to do with Blue. Damn. The lady kept sneaking up on him from the inside out. He didn’t know how she did it, but she was better at it than he’d let anybody be for a long, long time.

  He leaned back against the mantel and dragged his hand through his hair, and with each passing second he felt himself sinking in deeper over his head.

  * * *

  Blue finished toweling herself off, keeping one eye on the clean white shirt neatly folded on top of the clothes hamper. It had been under her towel and washcloth when she’d entered the bathroom, the position a sure sign of its purpose. He’d put it there for her to use. She didn’t know what to do.

  Wearing it didn’t seem right. Not wearing it seemed rude, cowardly, and stupid to boot. Her own clothes were grimy with th
e dirt of three days on the trail and one in jail. She’d already used his shampoo, bathtub, and blow dryer, and had raided his medicine cabinet for a fresh bandage for her hand. If the truth be known, she’d used his razor too. The temptation had been too great, the results well worth her pang of guilt. She felt human again, and more than human she felt feminine—a rare, private luxury she seldom indulged in.

  She reached out and ran a finger down the front of the shirt. The cloth was soft, cottony . . . tempting. Sighing, she looked at her clothes lying on the floor, and she knew she couldn’t put them back on.

  Walker leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs against the pine-paneled wall. He took another sip of coffee. What was she doing in there? Taking up residence? he wondered. He wouldn’t have taken her for the bathroom-lounging type.

  He should have let her sleep in the barn with her dog. Or more realistically, he should have slept in the barn. What did he think he was doing? Inviting her into his bed after what had happened last night. The longer she spent in there, the more time he had to think about it, the more time he had to remember, the more time he had to anticipate . . . nothing.

  Nothing was going to happen. He could at least count on her for that. A short laugh escaped him, and he pushed off the chair and went back into the kitchen to warm his cup of coffee. He and Blue Dalton. He laughed softly again, ignoring the nervous edge in the sound. Even he had to have more sense than to tangle himself up with a she-cat.

  Think of her as your kid sister, he told himself, and immediately another smile broadened his mouth in true humor. Janelle and Blue, now there was a mismatched pair if he’d ever seen one. Janelle never put anything on her body that didn’t cost a hundred dollars, not anymore. Her days of ragged jeans were far behind her, and even before she’d married David, she’d never worn anything as ill-fitting as the pants Blue owned. She’d always known she was a woman, and Blue seemed never to have figured the fact out.

  No, Blue didn’t remind him of his kid sister, but if he tried, maybe he could convince himself she was off-limits anyway. Right, he thought, walking back into the living room, and maybe the sun wasn’t going to come up in the morning.

  Blue turned off the bathroom light and slipped out the door, meaning to make a quiet run to the bedroom. Walker’s voice stopped her midway down the hall.

  “I poured you a fresh cup of coffee.”

  She turned, clutching her dirty clothes in front of her. He was sitting at the kitchen table at the far end of the room, but the cabin wasn’t big enough to make the distance a safe one, or to disguise the intrigued tilt of his head and the thoughtful expression on his face. His long johns shirt covered her to her knees and wrists, but under his watchful gaze, she felt exposed.

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll turn in.” She made a small gesture with her hand.

  “I’ve got hot chocolate. It might help you sleep.”

  Something had changed, and it took her a second to realize what it was; they were both in the same room and they weren’t fighting. She found herself relaxing her guard, taking her cue from his friendly manner.

  “That’s okay. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble.” She turned to go, then stopped and glanced back over her shoulder. For a moment she just looked at him, taking in the wild beauty of the man watching her. She held his gaze, feeling the pull of his thoughts in the shadowed depths of his eyes. He wanted her, and he was neither shy nor subtle about letting her know. The strength of his desire frightened her, but not nearly as much as the response she felt building inside herself,

  Her gaze slipped from his, unable to cope with the silent communion flaring between them, but also unable to leave him completely. She visually traced the curve of his mouth, and the longing increased. She followed the line of his body across the breadth of his shoulders, and she remembered the dampness of tears. The power in the muscles apparent beneath the soft chamois of his shirt conjured up images of the night before when he’d held her in his arms.

  But in the ketoh wrapped around his wrist she found the will to walk away. She knew what she had to do. She had to get to Lacey’s Lode before he did.

  “Good night, Walker,” she whispered.

  Watching her leave, Walker doubted her last words. The soft light in the hallway teased him with the shadowed movement of her body beneath his shirt. It mocked him by tracing the graceful strength of her legs and shining through the golden whiteness of her hair. Good night? He didn’t think so. The only possible good night he could imagine entailed following her into his bedroom, wrapping her in his arms, kissing her until she melted from the heat, and then making love to her until the dawn of a very good morning.

  Hell, he thought, pushing away from the table. He might as well start tossing and turning now. He’d had two restless nights on the trail trying to find her, and it had only gotten worse since he’d caught her. He’d never known a woman to cost him so much sleep.

  Six

  Walker awoke with a start, his first thought one of surprise that he’d slept at all; his second brought a jolt of adrenaline that had him scrambling out of bed and into his jeans. Blue. His feet hit the cold floor running. Lord knew what she was up to, or even if she’d stuck around.

  Buttoning his pants, he raced across the hall and looked in her room. The bed was made, the blue and white quilt neatly tucked under the pillows, and neither she nor her dog were anywhere in sight. He swore under his breath and strode down the hall to the living room. Still no Blue.

  You fool. You should have known better than to let her out of your sight for a second. She better have a helluva start, because when he caught up with her, he was going to . . . going to . . .

  The sound of laughter outside stopped him in his tracks. He walked over to the window, lifted an edge of curtain, and along with relief, felt all the problems he’d had in the night come back in full force.

  She was kneeling in the soft green meadow grass, talking to her dog and tossing bits of bread to the gray jays daring enough to get close. Pale sunshine haloed the golden strands of her hair and illuminated the delicate profile of her face, revealing a carefree, angelic countenance. Walker stood perfectly still, mesmerized by the early-morning scene and the slight woman filling it with beauty and light. She laughed again and tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing the sweet curves of a smile he felt all the way to his gut. He’d never seen her happy before, never seen her smile, and the effect was nothing short of totally wondrous and totally demoralizing.

  He dropped the curtain and cussed softly all the way into the bathroom. Even after the whole thing was over, she still wouldn’t have any reason to smile at him. He’d tied her up, attempted to seduce her, bullied her, and trapped her by burning the map. Guilt and women were a rare mixture in his life, but without any effort on her part Blue Dalton was heaping a load of it on his head.

  * * *

  Blue finished feeding the jays, not having to work very hard to entice the biggest one with her last piece of toast. Not even Trapper’s nearness dissuaded the camp robber from his free meal. The bird landed with a screech, then hopped closer, snatched the bread off the ground, and flew off in a flurry of wings.

  “Funny bird.” She laughed, absently stroking Trapper’s soft coat. A morning breeze cooled her cheeks, and she lifted her face into the rising sun. The day was coming, and after a long night with her topographical maps and her compass, she was ready to face it. Her plan required skill, concentration, and an artless flair for deception. In other words, she had to lie through her teeth and do it with conviction. Nothing less would fool Walker Evans. By nightfall she’d have the directions inside his head, and he’d have nothing.

  Her smile faded at the thought. She mentally shrugged off the pang of guilt. What was Walker Evans to her except another in a long line of men who’d tried to take her inheritance? If the father hadn’t had enough guts to go after what was his, what did it matter how much courage the son had? She was the one who’d figured everything out. He hadn’t
been there when she’d sunk herself deep into Lake Agnes, and he hadn’t been there when O’Keefe had cornered her in the cabin, a fact much to O’Keefe’s advantage. Walker had made his views about forcing women against their will very plain, in words and in deed.

  Unconsciously she touched her fingers to her lips and once again felt the warmth of his mouth on hers. She closed her eyes and dropped her hand back into her lap. No one else had ever made her feel what she’d felt when he’d kissed her. No one else had ever touched her with such tenderness and passion. She didn’t believe it now, had barely believed it even as his slow, sensual explorations of her mouth had taught her everything a kiss could be. He’d held her so closely, his strong arms around her, his hand on her face, guiding her deeper into the mystery of the gentle, consuming strokes of his tongue down the length of hers.

  She opened her eyes, suddenly shivering in the cool air, and looked back at the cabin, wondering if he had awakened, He’d been sleeping restlessly when she’d left. She hadn’t meant to look at him, but his door had been open, and she’d been disturbingly, undeniably curious. He slept on his stomach, and he didn’t wear pajamas. More useless information, she’d told herself, but she’d stood there anyway, watching dawn trace shadows across the muscles in his back, watching the darkness of his skin turn the color of coffee with cream in the increasing light. And for a fleeting moment, before she’d turned away, she’d imagined herself lying there with him, warm and safe in his embrace, waking him with a kiss.

  She shook her head in annoyance as the image returned and rose to her feet. “Come on, Trapper. I’ll get your breakfast.”

  Walker had done another nice thing last night besides get her out of jail. He’d taken her stuff out of her Jeep and put it all in the bed of his truck. This morning she’d dug some clean but wrinkled clothes out of her suitcase and changed in the bathroom, that time avoiding his room. Now she went back to the truck for Trapper’s food and bowls.