Emotion shimmered in his eyes. "But I do worry, Gretchen. And nothing you say is going to stop me from doing that." His voice was a low murmur, filled with sincerity. Maybe he didn't want his words to be overheard by the family seated outside on the long porch seat.
Gretchen felt her breath catch in her chest. There was something about the way he'd just looked at her which made every part of her being light up with a secret delight. His eyes were filled with an exquisite combination of concern and barely disguised longing.
Anna had been right. Tate had feelings for her. Gretchen could see the evidence hiding behind those dark eyes. His gaze triggered a warm glow in her middle. She could get used to Tate Campbell looking at her like that, she told herself. Even as she admitted that to herself, she sensed the danger in it. They were still two whole days from Inspiration. Anything could happen during their time together. And she still had plenty of questions about Tate.
Gretchen smiled weakly. When she stood, Tate's hand slipped from her arm. As she turned, Gretchen saw Tate look up at her. There was surprise on his features, even disappointment.
Trying her best to ignore the feelings which his expression had ignited in her, she took her empty coffee cup to the kitchen alcove and laid it on the surface. Feeling shaky, she moved to the fireplace and leaned her hand against the mantle, trying her best to steady herself. Gazing down at the low-burning embers, she felt their reassuring warmth. From tomorrow, the only fires she and Tate would have would be the ones Tate would ignite when they camped out. And the ones awakening in her heart, she reminded herself.
The sound of Tate's chair scraping against the floor caught her attention. She turned and watched him make his way across to her. Within the confines of the cabin, Tate seemed taller. His steps were easy and languid, filled with that familiar confidence she was getting used to enjoying. He leaned his hand against the mantle and faced her. The glow of the fireplace cast pink shadows across his even, handsome features. His eyes were still bright with hidden emotion.
"What's on your mind, Gretchen?" he asked suddenly.
She narrowed her eyes. "What makes you say that?"
Tate smiled and shook his head. "I know when you're worried."
"I'm not worried, Tate." She lifted her chin defiantly. "Not at all."
Tate lowered his gaze and peered into the fireplace. Wanting to turn the tables in the conversation she asked: "You seemed troubled when Hamish was here today."
"Did I?" he asked and lifted a brow. She saw a mask descend upon his features.
"Yes. You looked like you didn't even want to talk to Hamish."
Tate shrugged. "We only just met. He's a stranger."
Remembering what Anna had said, Gretchen countered: "He seemed to know you from somewhere."
The instant she said those words she saw Tate's lips tighten into a thin line. His jaw tightened and he peered sternly at her. "I don't know the man," he insisted emphatically.
"But he was sure he's seen you before."
Tate dragged in a sharp breath and shook his head abruptly. "No. If that's what he said, then he's mistaken."
Gretchen felt her throat tighten. This wasn't going the way she'd planned. She'd figured Tate might just give her an explanation. Instead, he seemed determined to build a wall again.
Dissatisfied, Gretchen gazed at Tate. If she was going to embark on the rest of her trip to Inspiration, Gretchen knew she had to get the truth out of Tate. Or at least as much of it as possible. "Are you hiding something from me, Tate?"
"What?" he asked sharply. His brows shot up in a line, disbelief spreading across his features.
"I get the impression you're not telling me the whole story about yourself," Gretchen stated.
Tate's eyes widened. He seemed genuinely taken aback by her bold declaration. He cleared his throat and glanced down at the fireplace. Lifting his gaze back up to her, he peered intently at her. "I told you all you need to know." And then he added in a firm voice: "For now."
Gretchen squinted at Tate. "I'm traveling with someone who is almost a complete stranger to me. And now you're admitting to me that there might be things you're hiding from me?"
Tate moved closer to Gretchen. "You have to trust me, Gretchen." He reached across and curled his fingers over her hand. The touch of his skin made her gasp. It also made the heat from the fireplace seem suddenly warmer. Tate tilted his head to one side and gazed at her. Now, there was no hiding the emotion in that gaze, she told herself.
Gretchen wanted to move her hand away from his. But, all she could do was stand facing him, gazing up into his dark eyes, feeling herself entranced by the longing she could see on his perfectly handsome features. Her breath quickened, matching the thundering pace of her heartbeat.
Then, Tate stepped forward, resting his hands on Gretchen's shoulders. He dipped his head. The kiss, when it came was every bit as wonderful as she'd imagined it would be. His soft lips settled upon her mouth, triggering waves of joy in her. She gasped as she felt Tate close the final distance between them. A moment later, his arms slid around her, drawing her near. Lifting her arms, she settled her hands on his shoulders, almost as if she wanted to resist. But she didn't really want to keep Tate at a distance. Somewhere deep in side herself, Gretchen knew she'd been waiting for this moment. And, now that it had come, she allowed herself to savor the delight of Tate's tender kiss.
When at last Tate lifted his head and gazed into her eyes, Gretchen could only smile up at him. Tate's eyes were filled with relief. Maybe he'd been thinking about doing this for a while, now, she told herself. Had that been the real reason for his anxious manner throughout the day? Had he simply been trying to summon up the courage to show her how he felt about her?
For a long moment, she and Tate gazed into each others eyes. Time seemed to stand still. Gretchen felt her heartbeat pounding furiously. One thing was for sure. Tate Campbell had the power to affect her, Gretchen admitted to herself.
"Gretchen," Tate murmured. His brows furrowed. Suddenly she worried he might be about to express some kind of regret. Perhaps he'd been seized by a momentary impulse. And now he regretted his actions.
Before he could say another word, Gretchen heard heavy footsteps outside on the porch. Someone was about to come into the cabin. Panic seized Gretchen. Stepping quickly away from Tate, she hurriedly made for the kitchen alcove. Just as she reached the dry sink, the cabin door opened. Anna, Noah and the children came into the cabin, their footsteps thundering on the wooden floor. Gretchen picked up her empty coffee cup and started to clean it. She saw Tate remain standing at the fireplace.
Anna glanced from Gretchen to Tate and back again. The corners of Anna's mouth creased with the slightest hint of a smile.
Standing by the dry sink, Gretchen could still feel the effects of Tate's kiss ripple through her nerves. Dragging in a deep breath, she fought to control herself.
So, it was true, she told herself. Tate did have feelings for her. And he'd just shown the depth of those feelings. It confirmed everything she'd been telling herself all afternoon. The next two days had just become even more complicated. Even more of a challenge.
Tate Campbell wasn't just a man who'd decided to do what was right.
He was the handsome cowboy who'd just shown her that he harbored genuine feelings for her. That he cared for her.
The truth was out. But, as far as Gretchen was concerned, that just made things even more complicated.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Tate and Gretchen left the homestead early the following morning. They both said emotional and grateful farewells to Anna and Noah, and the children. The horses' saddlebags had been packed with extra provisions. As Tate rode away from the homestead, westward along the trail, with Gretchen riding her pinto alongside him, he turned and waved goodbye to the family which had shown himself and Gretchen so much kindness and generosity. In many ways, quietly and gently, in their own special way, Anna and Noah had restored and renewed Tate's faith in people.
> For most of their ride along the trail, in the early morning sunshine, Gretchen remained silent. She'd been quiet all morning, over breakfast and during the preparation to leave. There was no sternness in her demeanor. She just seemed like she wanted to be left alone for a while. Tate decided to respect that wish. In the silence of the ride along the trail, Tate reflected on what had happened in the cabin, last night.
The kiss.
Perhaps Gretchen was simply feeling awkward or embarrassed about what they'd shared. Tate recalled the way she'd settled into his embrace. The way she'd rested her hands against his shoulders. The look in her eyes as she'd gazed up at him.
Resting in his saddle, glancing across at Gretchen, Tate savored the memory of the delight he'd felt as he'd held her close to him. Her lips had been sweet and soft. His hadn't been an impulsive act. Not in the least. The truth was, Tate had wanted to kiss Gretchen because he'd been thinking affectionately about her ever since they'd set out on their journey. Seeing her sick had made Tate even more determined to take care of her. To protect her. And that need had transformed into a desire to show her exactly how he was beginning to feel about her. Judging by her reaction, Gretchen was harboring similar feelings. And that gave Tate hope. Something which had been absent from his life in recent weeks.
During the last few weeks, in the company of the renegade outfit, men dedicated to their own selfish ends, Tate had started to feel the influence of those men. Evil had a way of affecting those with whom it came into contact. And Tate hadn't been immune to that. He'd felt the contaminating effects of his necessary deception. A coldness had crept into his spirit. Tate had felt a hardening of his heart. Pretending to be an outlaw had affected Tate more than he'd realized.
And then Gretchen had arrived. Or rather, God had brought her into Tate's life. Out in the fields yesterday, Noah had spoken with Tate. He'd expressed the opinion that Tate's meeting with Gretchen was no accident. It seemed like Noah had a powerful belief in providence. It went right along with his devotion to the Lord. Listening to Noah, Tate had to admit that the homesteader might well be right.
Gretchen had turned Tate's life upside down. And maybe that was just what God wanted for Tate, he reflected. Being a marshal had been hard this last few years. Tate had felt a strong desire to settle down. The last thing he'd expected was that he'd meet someone like Gretchen while he was trying to bring a ruthless gang to justice.
Meeting Gretchen had awakened more than a need for companionship. Tate wanted to have as much good in his life as possible. Being with the wonderful homesteading family, showing Nathaniel how to handle a rope like a man, had encouraged Tate to hope that he might have a family of his own someday. He could only hope it might come true.
But first he had a job to do. A promise to keep.
A woman to protect.
They rode until after midday. Gretchen had recovered her strength and seemed eager to demonstrate to Tate that she was more than ready to face a long day of riding. They were two days out from Inspiration. The delay at the homestead worried Tate. It meant that, if the Wolfe outfit got it into their heads to come after Tate and Gretchen, then the outfit of renegades might be able to catch them up. That thought gave urgency to Tate's riding.
Finally though, they had to stop to give the horses a rest. They found a grove of trees near a creek and tied the horses up in the shade of some cottonwoods by the water. The horses drank their fill of the cold water. Tate took some food from the saddlebags and a canteen of water. Sharing it all with Gretchen, he was pleased to see she had a good appetite and healthy thirst. She'd recovered fully from her illness. Her continued silence, even beneath the branches of the trees, bothered him, though. Eventually, he decided to break the silence.
Pointing westward, he said: "We should be able to make those mountains before sundown."
Turning to look, Gretchen lifted a hand to her eyes, shading it from the sun. "Mountains?"
Tate nodded. "We won't have to cross them. There's a pass through the range. But, if we don't make it in time, we'll have to find a place to sleep on the mountainside."
Gretchen frowned. "Isn't that dangerous?"
Tate shook his head. "We'll find a cave or some shelter. I don't want you sleeping out unprotected again."
"I can handle it," Gretchen objected. She fixed him with a steady look. "I'm not made of glass."
Tate let his gaze drift down the length of Gretchen's neat-fitting jacket and riding pants. "I know that," he said admiringly.
Tate saw Gretchen's cheeks flush pink. Just like they'd done last night, standing by the fireside in the cabin.
She distracted herself by biting into the chicken which she and Anna had cooked earlier that morning. Tate smiled when he saw the way she tried not to look at him. She was still feeling delicate about something. And Tate was sure he knew what was bothering her. Figuring it might be a long day if they didn't clear the air, he spoke: "About last night, Gretchen."
She frowned and peered at him from beneath hooded brows. "There's no need to apologize," she snapped.
Her words rocked him back on his heels for a moment. "Apologize?" he asked incredulously.
Gretchen nodded. "I know you've been thinking about the way you kissed me."
Tate's brows rose. "You do? I didn't know mind-reading was one of your talents," he joked.
She fixed him with a stern look and took another bite of chicken. She chewed for a few moments and then said: "Don't pretend you weren't thinking about it."
"Weren't you?" Tate asked.
Gretchen paused a long moment and then shrugged. "I suppose I was," she admitted. That didn't sound too encouraging, Tate told himself. What she said next confirmed his doubts. "Maybe its best we pretend it didn't happen." Gretchen said.
Tate felt something heavy sinking in the pit of his stomach. Tate narrowed his eyes and examined Gretchen carefully. She'd dragged her gaze away from him and was watching the horses drink from the creek. For one brief moment, she glanced at him. She was trying to judge the effect of her words on him, he told himself. Checking him.
This was all an act, he told himself. Right now, she was doing her best to get him to believe that the kiss hadn't meant anything to her. The problem with that was, Tate didn't believe her. Not for one moment.
And he wasn't going to start changing how he felt about her. He'd done enough pretending in recent times. He wasn't going to lie to himself about someone as important as Gretchen. He wasn't going to back down.
He moved closer to Gretchen. Her eyes widened as he approached. Now she looked concerned. Maybe she'd expected him to accept her rebuttal. Perhaps she'd been planning this all morning.
Tate leaned against the thick trunk of a cottonwood. "You see, here's the problem, Gretchen. That kiss, last night, meant a whole lot to me. I don't go kissing every girl I happen to meet."
Her brows shot up in a line. "I'm glad to hear it," she said defiantly. Now her Pennsylvania accent was more pronounced. She was losing her hard-won composure, he told himself. At least that was progress.
"And you know what I think?" he said. Gretchen said nothing. She merely tilted her head, watching him carefully. "If you ask me, I believe that kiss also meant something to you."
He saw a flash of indignation in her eyes. "Did it?" she snapped.
Tate nodded. "You can't deny it. I could tell you were enjoying it." He knew it was a bold statement, even risky. But he had to speak the truth.
Color flushed her cheeks and she gasped. "I can't believe you said that."
"Its the truth, ain't it?"
Gretchen shook her head emphatically. "It most certainly is not," she exclaimed.
Tate tilted his head and grinned at her. "You didn't exactly go running out of the cabin."
"If I had, what would Anna and Noah have thought?" she retorted.
"It would only have confirmed what they already believed," Tate countered.
Her brows furrowed. "Which is what?" she demanded.
Tate
quirked a brow at Gretchen. "Do you really want me to answer that?"
Gretchen put the chicken piece down onto the metal plate which was resting on the flat edge of the thick tree branch. "If you have any decency, and any manners, you won't say another word about what happened last night," she stated.
Color flamed her cheeks. He wondered how serious she was about getting him to stop talking about that kiss. "I don't have the fancy manners of a city gentleman. I'm just a humble cowboy, ma'am," Tate said teasingly. He was determined to stop the conversation from escalating into a full-blown argument.
His attempt at humor fell as flat as a pancake. Gretchen jammed her fists against her sides and took one step toward him. She was close enough now that, if he wished, he could reach out and take her into his arms. Just like he'd done last night. He managed to contain the impulse. For the moment.
"I'm beginning to think there's more to you than meets the eye, Tate Campbell," she said firmly.
That rocked him back on his heels. "What do you mean?"
She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. He felt like he was being examined by a doctor. "You haven't really told me much about your life. Apart from the bit about growing up in Laramie, and living the life of a drifter. Other than that, I don't know a whole lot about the man who took it upon himself to kiss me."
"Are you saying I've lied to you?"
Gretchen peered at Tate. "I don't know." She narrowed her eyes. "You tell me."
Tate dragged in a deep breath. She'd turned the tables on him. She was facing him down in the one area he knew he was vulnerable.
His true identity.
Tate knew he had a choice. He could just dismiss her concerns and walk away. If he didn't speak about this for the rest of the journey, he might get her safely to Inspiration without making things worse. However, after last night, there was a part of Tate which desperately needed to let loose with the truth.
Tate thought about the renegade gang. They'd either be back in Refuge drowning their sorrows in the saloon, waiting for Tate's return. Or they'd be on the trail, hunting Tate down, eager to know why he'd left the town in such a hurry. He was sure that Billy would have caused trouble for Tate. Billy wouldn't have taken the humiliation Tate had meted out to him without wanting to sour Tate's relationship with the rest of the gang. If that had happened then Tate would have lost any chance of bringing the gang to justice.
The Lawman’s Frontier Bride Page 12
