Always You

by Jill Gregory

  That was just as well. Since she was in a state of confusion, for the first time in her life doubting her own perspicacity, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone with him—or with any man.

  She’d been taken in by a con man. She’d fallen in love with him. And now that she knew the truth, was she heartbroken, devastated?

  No. She was furious. Furious with Rafe Campbell and furious with herself for falling prey to him.

  She didn’t understand herself.

  And there was something else, something equally perplexing. She had feelings for this lean, bronzed man, who moments ago had chopped wood with such easy grace and strength, sweat glossing his chest and arms like dew on a tree trunk. Strong feelings. She wasn’t ready to explore them, but they were there, as heady and mysterious as smoke from a woodfire.

  She didn’t understand them, and she didn’t want to pursue them. But over the past few days as she’d been watching Cal, watching him with his younger siblings and as he worked in the barn and around the farm, she no longer saw her kidnapper, a stubborn, ruthless enemy. She saw a relaxed, efficient man whose chestnut hair continually fell forward over his eyes, a man who gave good-natured piggyback rides to Louisa and Will, who played the harmonica at night before the parlor fire while Cassie sang along, a man who worked hard without complaint for endless hours on the farm.

  She saw a man who could make children smile, a man who had held her during a thunderstorm and somehow managed to soothe away her terror. A man who cared for his family and bore the same fierce pride in his family name as she did in hers.

  She saw a man whose kisses made her burn, even when she was betrothed to another, a man whose touch seared her, whose rare smile filled her with unexpected delight.

  But she didn’t want to think about Cal. She couldn’t afford to, not now when she was so confused about her gullibility in falling for Rafe Campbell, so anxious to settle her score with him and get home to her sister and her ranch.

  She became aware that Cal was speaking to her and forced her attention back to his words. “There’s a chance someone could recognize me at the barbecue or even in town—though I have to admit, it’s not all that likely. Most of the wanted posters you saw were distributed while the posse was after us. After my escape from the jail, there were some others sent across Arizona and New Mexico, but they don’t seem to have gotten as far as Wyoming and South Dakota territories yet. But there’s always a chance. Still, it’s a small one,” he admitted with a shrug. “And it sure would make Lou happy to go.”

  A barbecue. It sounded wonderfully normal, wonderfully festive and appealing. With pies and cake and dancing and laughter. Such an ordinary event, but one that seemed highly unusual these days.

  Life hadn’t been ordinary since the moment Cal snatched her from her bedroom. The very idea of the barbecue made her eyes sparkle, yet there was another danger for the Holden family to consider.

  “What about the possibility that Campbell might already be in Deadwood?” She stooped to pick up another dandelion to add to the bracelet. “Isn’t it a risk for any of us to go about right now anywhere? It would certainly spoil your plan if he spotted you—or me—or found out about the children. Can you imagine what would happen if he somehow turned up at that barbecue and saw us dancing together, talking? I mean,” she added hastily, turning the brilliant pink of the wildflowers still straggling on the hills as he turned to stare at her, one brow lifted. “I mean... assuming they had dancing there, and assuming you asked me... and assuming I agreed and—”

  “You like to dance, Princess?”

  She bit her lip. “Why, yes. I rather enjoy it—with the right partner.” Melora gathered her composure enough to throw him an airy look. “And you?”

  “Don’t care much for it. Reckon I just never found the right partner.”

  He was staring at her so intently she felt the hot color deepen in her neck and cheeks. “Well, you told Dr. Wright I was your wife,” she said slowly, “so if we went to the barbecue and if there was dancing and if Dr. Wright was there—”

  “I’d have to dance with you.” Cal finished helpfully.

  She gave a light shrug. “There’d probably be no way around it.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Well, I’d hate to put you through having to dance with the wrong partner, so—”

  “Whoa. Hold on there a minute, Melora.” He pushed his hat back on his head and came toward her, his chest glistening in the full, hot sun. “Who said you’d be the wrong partner?”

  “Who said I’d be the right one?” She’d managed to counter him, forcing herself not to stare at his chest, or his broad shoulders, or the muscles bulging in his arms. Instead she met his eyes, those vividly intent eyes that looked as if they could see right through her without any effort at all. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to torment you by forcing you to—”

  “It would be torment, all right,” he muttered.

  She went stiff as a rail. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Yes. Never mind,” Melora spit out. “Because we’d best not go. If Campbell is anywhere in these parts—”

  “It doesn’t appear that he is.” Cal turned away from her and reached for his shirt, which had been thrown down in the grass. He used it to wipe the sweat glistening on his face and neck. “I rode into Deadwood early this morning and checked at the hotel where he’s supposed to wait for instructions. He hadn’t checked in yet.”

  “Arid just what are you going to do when you’ve got him where you want him?” Melora hoped her tart tone disguised the fear she felt—fear for Cal, not for the man she’d once planned to marry. “A gunfight?” she demanded, a shade too shrilly. Her golden brown eyes flashed like bronze coins as she studied him. “That won’t clear your name!”

  He regarded her calmly. “Much as I’d like to shed Campbell’s blood, I’ve got a better plan than that.”

  “What is it?”

  He gave her a long look. “I’m going to get him to confess in front of a very important witness.”

  “Who?” Her heart beat faster as she followed him. He walked a few paces away, pausing beneath a tree to scan the granite-hilled horizon. “Who’s your witness?”

  “Ever hear of Federal Marshal Everett T. Brock?”

  “Of course. My father spoke of him.” Twisting the dandelion bracelet around and around her wrist, Melora watched his face. “My father said he was as fine a lawman as ever lived. Honest, with good horse sense and a brilliant knowledge of the law. Why?”

  “Brock is retired now. Lives in Deadwood. I mean to find him, tell him the whole story, and see if he’ll cooperate when I set Campbell up. If I can get Campbell to confess in front of Brock—” He turned sharply as a twig snapped behind them. Jesse was coming toward them, wearily carrying his hoe.

  “How many families do you think will be attending this O’Malley barbecue tonight?” Cal asked his brother.

  “Six, seven. Mostly the nearest neighbors this side of the gully.” Jesse tipped his hat to Melora, then surveyed Cal with hopeful eyes. “Can we go?”

  “Don’t see why not.”

  Jesse gave out a whoop. He grabbed Melora’s arm and spun her around in a quick do-si-do. “You’ll go too, won’t you, Melora?” he asked as she laughed. “Maybe I’ll even save you a dance.”

  “Thank you very much, that would be delightful. But I won’t be attending the barbecue.”

  “And why the hell not?” Cal swung toward her, his jaw taut.

  “I don’t have anything to wear.” She shrugged. “I’d look silly going to a party in your flannel shirt and pants,” she said with a rueful grin. “And my riding habit won’t do either. So—”

  “Hold on.” Cal barred her way as she started back toward the house. “What about the rest of those clothes you’ve been carrying in your trunk all across Wyoming? You must have had some dresses packed for your honeymoon.”

  She flinched at the word. Honeymoon. To think that she’d
been planning her honeymoon—looking forward to it—with a murderer and a rustler. It took an effort to answer Cal steadily.

  “Silks and satins. Far too fancy for a family barbecue. It’s all right, Cal. I was just teasing you before about dancing and everything. I don’t mind staying home, and you can just tell Dr. Wright if he’s there that I’m under the weather because of my ‘condition.’” She shrugged again. “My evening will be better spent composing a letter to Jinx. I need to let her know that I’m safe. Perhaps you would send it for me next time you go into town?”

  “I can do that.” He nodded. “Reckon there’s no reason she should have to keep worrying about you. You’ll be going home soon enough.”

  With that they stared at each other. There was nothing left to say. Jesse glanced from one to the other of them, then shook his head as Melora suddenly turned and strode across the grass toward the house.

  Squinting against the hot sunshine, Cal stared after her thoughtfully.

  “She ought to come to the barbecue with the rest of us,” Jesse spoke up, kicking a log.

  “You heard what the lady said.”

  “Just think. You’d have a chance to dance with her.”

  “What makes you think I want to dance with her?”

  Jesse snorted. “Anyone can see by the way you look at her that you’d want to dance with her—and a whole lot more,” he added with a grin “Cal, come on. You know there’s ready-made dresses in Deadwood. Some real pretty ones.”

  “I figured that.”

  “Want me to go into town and pick one out for her?”

  Hefting an armful of logs, Cal started toward the house. “Reckon that’s something I can do for her myself,” he drawled so casually Jesse’s grin widened.

  “Sure, Cal,” he said, following with the rest of the firewood. “After all, she’s your girl.”

  “Not yet she isn’t,” Cal muttered under his breath, so low his brother almost didn’t catch the words.

  But he knew by the set of Cal’s shoulders and the firm expression in his eyes that for the first time his big brother had set his sights on a particular woman.

  And what a woman. Leave it to Cal to pick someone as pretty and feisty as Melora Deane.

  But when Cal set his mind to something, he usually got it.

  Jesse, who had his own eye on fourteen-year-old Dee O’Malley, whistled as he followed Cal home.

  No one seemed to notice when Cal left the farm that afternoon. Cassie asked Melora to help her bake a pie to bring to the barbecue, and this they did, while Louisa and Will played tag out beyond the vegetable garden and later sprawled on the rug with the checkerboard. Jesse trudged in eventually after seeing to the cows and chickens and horses. Covered with sweat and dust from a full day of work, he announced his intention to head for the stream for a swim and a bath.

  “Going to get yourself all prettied up for Dee O’Malley?” Louisa teased, with the impish grin that brought out her dimples.

  “What makes you think that?” he retorted, coloring up furiously.

  “I know you’re sweet on her. Just like Cal’s sweet on—” She broke off, clapping a hand over her mouth as her gaze flew to Melora.

  Cassie, setting the baked pie on the windowsill to cool, threw her little sister a woeful look.

  “Don’t you go telling tales on Cal.” She sounded far more grown-up than her nine years. “And you’re embarrassing Melora. That’s not polite. She’s our guest.”

  “No, she isn’t,” Louisa declared stoutly, her eyes still sparkling. “She’s Cal’s girl.”

  “I am not Cal’s girl,” Melora said firmly. “He doesn’t even like me much,” she added with a dry laugh and a shrug of her shoulders meant to appear breezy and unconcerned.

  “Oh, yes, he does,” everyone chorused. Even Jesse, who paused in the doorway to give her one of his lightning-bolt grins.

  “How can you tell?” Melora despised the blush flooding her cheeks but didn’t have a clue how to stop it. “I mean, if he’s never had a girl before—”

  “We can tell,” Will chimed in, nodding sagely, and everyone laughed in perfect agreement.

  * * *

  Cal rode into Deadwood on alert for any signs of danger. But when he checked again at the Glory Hotel, as he had that morning, he was told that no one named Rafe Campbell had yet registered there.

  He even checked under the name Wyatt Holden, on the chance that Campbell was playing some kind of game, but the clerk shook his head at this too. The weasel simply wasn’t there.

  He’d come, though, and soon. Cal was dead certain of it.

  Campbell wouldn’t let him get away with stealing Melora Deane right out from under his nose. His pride alone wouldn’t tolerate it.

  And that pride, that arrogance, Cal thought as he entered the general store, is what’s going to bring him down.

  Melora’s slender golden image kept dancing into his mind’s eye as he looked over the available store-bought dresses. She’d look good in any one of them, he thought, picturing her vibrant face, the rich fall of sunshine hair, her firm breasts filling out the bodice of each one of the various gowns Mrs. Hamilton displayed for his perusal. Actually, he concluded, his muscles taut as he remembered the delicate, tantalizing feel of her in his arms, she’d look good in all of them, be they calico, silk, or twill. Hell, Melora could tempt a preacher even when she’s only wearing my old flannel shirt and denims three times too big for her.

  But she’d look even better in nothing at all, Cal decided, suppressing a grin as he pointed to the dress he wanted.

  Not that I’ll ever see her that way.

  He didn’t notice how the eyes of several young women in town followed him about the store as he made his purchases. He was oblivious of the admiration and the blatant invitation some of them showed as they smiled at him or deliberately bumped into him, attempting to start up a conversation.

  Cal knew only that Melora Deane was dominating his thoughts more and more when he ought to be thinking about her less and less. He ought to be reviewing and analyzing his plan, working out all the possible hitches, eliminating any potential mistakes.

  There was the timing to think of. Marshal Brock’s presence at his showdown with Campbell was crucial. But though he’d sought Brock out at his home on the outskirts of Deadwood on two occasions, he’d been turned away both times by the housekeeper, who informed him that the marshal was not there.

  Cal couldn’t afford to make his move without Brock. Even when Campbell showed up, he’d have to hold off until everything was in place for the confession.

  This all had to be done just right.

  So quit thinking about Melora and start thinking about getting Campbell exactly where you want him.

  He forced his thoughts to focus on his plan as he paid for his purchases and carried them out of the store. As he galloped Rascal east toward the farm, leaving the dusty, crowded streets of Deadwood behind, another rider entered the town from the west.

  Coyote Jack spit into the street as he impassively studied his surroundings. With his hat pushed back and his bandanna loose around his neck, his hawklike eyes scanned up and down the streets for some sign of his prey.

  He paid no heed to the cloud of dust at the far edge of town, a dust cloud kicked up by a horse and rider too far distant to be clearly seen, headed at a fast gallop into the dense green of the hills.

  His gaze pierced the face of every man he saw, and every woman. He knew that sooner or later he would recognize the faces of the two people he’d been hired to find.

  He was skilled at his job, and years of success had given him a sure, swaggering confidence. He knew he would find them. It was only a matter of time.

  * * *

  By the time Cal returned home, Melora had settled herself in a chair with Lou and a spelling primer on her lap. Patiently she was helping the girl with her lessons. She stayed right where she was as Cal came through the door, hefting several large packages.

  “You went to t
own?” Cassie ran forward in surprise. “Deadwood or Cherryville?”

  “Deadwood.” He set the packages down on the kitchen table.

  “What for? Part of your plan, Cal?”

  “Nope. Nothing to do with that. I went to buy presents.”

  “Presents!” Louisa squealed, and the joy on her face as she jumped from the chair and raced toward the table reminded Melora of Jinx on her birthday when Pop would come in with a pile of presents for her. She turned her head so that no one would see the tears misting in her eyes.

  “Did you get one for me?” Lou cried, her little hands trembling over the pile of packages, not knowing which one, if any, was for her.

  “Yep. And for everyone else too. Simmer down, Lou, and you’ll get yours first.”

  He had bought Lou and Cassie each some ribbons for their hair, a brightly colored spinning top, and a bag of peppermints. For Will there was a windup tin man and a shiny new whistle and several sticks of licorice. Cal handed Jesse a dark blue silk neckerchief. There were grins all around, gasps of delight, hugs, yippees, and thank-yous.

  Then Cal reached for the largest parcel, a long white box.

  “Who’s that for?” Lou demanded. Then suddenly her gaze flew to the gold-haired young woman who’d been watching the proceedings and murmuring happily over everyone’s good fortune.

  “Melora,” she said. “The biggest present is for Melora!”

  “Hush.” Jesse poked her arm lightly, his gaze fixed with satisfaction on Melora’s astonished face.

  Melora felt everyone staring as Cal held the box out toward her. She regarded him blankly. “It isn’t really for me,” she stated flatly.

  “Well, I reckon it won’t fit Jesse.”

  To her discomfort the children chortled and elbowed one another. Silently she took the box from him, her heart pounding, though she tried to appear calm. As she lifted the lid, white tissue paper rustled. She pushed it aside and lifted out a dress so light and pretty her heart skittered and a sweet gladness rushed up inside her.

  The dress was perfect. It was the glorious blue of summer flowers, a soft buoyant blue, with a low-cut neckline frilled by zigzag white lace. Black piping and lace frothed at the tight-fitting sleeves, and a single row of jet buttons marched primly down the front, contrasting with the sensuously full and graceful skirt.