"I suppose she is," Zac agreed, "especially if she's twenty like she says, but she's nothing like Laurel."
"Laurel has been a mother since she was seventeen. That ages a woman."
"Being Jordy's mother would age anyone," Zac said. "I don't know how Hen talked her into adopting him."
Tyler grinned. "He is a handful."
"A terror's what he is. You finished torturing me?"
Tyler chuckled softly. "I'd like to torture you, just for a few minutes, to see if you have any real guts behind all your foolishness."
"I've got as much guts as any of the rest of you," Zac retorted. "Just because I don't like cows, wandering about in the wilderness, or having crazy gunmen shoot me in the ribs doesn't mean I'm a coward. I just like cities better than the country."
"There's more danger there than in the country."
"What city has blizzards and mountains and people who shoot you and try to burn your house down over your head?"
"I don't get along well with people."
"That's because you don't know how to handle them. I do."
Tyler had to admit that was true. He'd never known how to get along with his own family. He didn't even try with strangers. Though it seemed a contradiction -- one his brothers hadn't failed to point out more than once -- he would happily give up wandering through the wilderness for his dream of owning his own hotels and running them exactly the way he wanted.
He didn't hold it against Madison and Jeff that they had voted against selling some of the family's holdings to give him the money. Nobody could think of him as the right kind of person to manage a hotel. But neither did he intend to change his mind. He wanted the hotels for himself. As far as he was concerned, his family need not have anything to do with them.
With an inward sigh, he took one last look at Zac's wound. "You might as well go to bed, too. It's going to hurt for a while, but it's fine."
"That's easy for you to say," Zac said, "but you don't have to climb into that bunk with your side hurting like sin every time you move."
Tyler took Zac by the collar and seat of the pants and lifted him into the bunk with one, powerful thrust.
"Good God!" Zac exclaimed. "Are you trying to kill me?"
"This way the hurt's over quickly."
"Jesus," Zac grumbled. "Being by yourself has made you crazy."
"Go to sleep before I throw you on the woodpile with your mouse."
Tyler picked up the basin and bandages and went over to the stove to clean up. The rest of the deer ought to be thawed soon. He needed to cut some more. But as he cleaned up, he was thinking more about Daisy than the task before him.
He hadn't told her about her father because he didn't think she was strong enough to take such a shock. The longer he waited, the harder it was going to be on her. He didn't know what to do with a grieving female, and it was certain Zac wouldn't be any help.
He never had known what to do with grief. He didn't feel any, ever. He could remember how much Hen suffered when their mother died. To Tyler it meant he had to take over the cooking. The news of his father's death had been a relief more than anything else.
Ever since that day, Tyler had hated his father.
He dreaded having to listen to her cry. It wasn't the crying so much as the feeling of helplessness. He wondered if she would become hysterical and scream and rant, or if she would sit in the corner and whimper quietly hour after hour. He almost preferred the screaming. At least that would be over soon.
Ever since that day he couldn't stand to hear anybody cry.
He remembered how Rose grieved when her baby was born dead. He wasn't sure she had ever really gotten over it, not even after Elizabeth Rose was born. Even George had had a rough time, and George could handle anything.
He couldn't ask Zac to tell her, though he was tempted. That rascal could do it without turning a hair. Maybe he would take Daisy to Laurel. She would know what to say. No, that was cowardly. As much as he dreaded doing it, it was his responsibility.
He was reaching for his coat to go out and bring in more wood when a scream turned him rigid.
Chapter Three
Daisy was sitting straight up in her bed, her hands clutching at her bandage, emitting scream after scream. Her head bumped against the slats of the bed above her.
"Hellfire!" Zac exclaimed, rising out of his bed. "It sounds like somebody's killing her."
Tyler crossed the room in less than a second. He pulled Daisy's hands down, but the screams continued without interruption. Acting on instinct alone, he pulled her to him, pressed her mouth against his chest, and closed his arms tightly around her.
The screams stopped immediately.
"Thank God!" Zac said, relief throbbing in his voice. "What do you think set her off?"
"He's dead!" Daisy moaned into Tyler's chest. "My father's dead."
Zac fell back on his bed. "She remembers."
Daisy began to cry in great, gusty sobs. She threw her arms around Tyler and held on tight. He had no idea what to do. He'd never held a woman in his arms except in moments of physical release.
This was nothing like that.
"What are you going to do with her?" Zac asked.
"I don't know. You got any suggestions?"
"Yeah, but it's too cold to run away."
That was the first thought that had come into Tyler's mind. The blizzard made that impossible, of course, not that he would have run anyway. The only decent thing to do was help her get over the worst of the shock.
He remembered the afternoon his own body shook with sobs. He also remembered the beating his father gave him because of it.
Daisy's body trembled as the heart-rending sobs tore through her. Tyler felt warm tears soak through his shirt and felt guilty he couldn't do anything but sit here holding her, waiting for her to cry herself out, waiting for her to tell him what to do.
Gradually he felt less awkward. His arms relaxed around her, and he actually held her rather than merely encircling her body with his arms like an iron hoop encircling barrel staves. It was a strange sensation. It didn't appeal to him very much, but it wasn't as bad as he had expected.
After a minute he actually liked the warmth of her body in his arms, the feel of her bones through the coarse material of her dress. He didn't mind the roughness of the bandage against his cheek. For such a tall woman, she was surprisingly slender. The smell of the salve stung his nostrils, but he didn't mind that so much either.
"How long is she going to go on?" Zac asked
"Ssshhh!" Tyler hissed. Just because he and Zac hadn't had any reason to mourn their parents was no reason other people shouldn't. From all he'd heard, that sort of thing affected females the most.
"Well she doesn't look like she's going to stop."
"I'm going to stop right now," Daisy muttered into Tyler's chest, her voice a tremulous thread. "I promise I won't cry another minute."
"I didn't mean you couldn't cry," Zac said, apparently not quite so insensitive he didn't know when he had been callous. "I just wondered how long you were going to be too upset to sleep. Rose always says sleep's the best medicine."
"I don't know if I can sleep, but I won't keep you awake," Daisy promised. She started to cry again, then stopped abruptly. She wiped her eyes with her fists. She tried to sit up, her gaze questioning, when Tyler didn't release his hold on her. Flushing, Tyler immediately relaxed his arms. Much to his surprise he had felt more comfortable holding her. His arms felt empty now, and he was acutely aware of her nearness. Looking into her eyes made him nervous. He felt like he ought to say something, do something, but he had no notion what.
"What happened?" she asked Tyler. "I only remember looking through the door and seeing my father lying on the floor." She nearly broke down again, but after a brief struggle, she seemed to have finally regained her composure.
"We don't know," he said, trying not to let her gaze unsettle him. No woman had ever been so close, had ever looked at him with large brown eyes
swimming with unshed tears. He knew her weakness was only temporary, but that didn't lessen her need now. She had no one else to depend on, and he had failed. He had never felt so inadequate. "We heard the shots, but I thought it was hunters. We only went to investigate when I realized it was a gun shot, not rifle fire."
"Tell me what you saw," Daisy said, her voice stronger now.
"There wasn't much to see. The house was on fire, and both of you were inside. We pulled you both out, but your father was already dead."
"Is that all?"
"We saw hoofprints of three horses in the snow."
"You didn't go after them?"
"We had to take care of you. Besides, our mules could never overtake their horses. Do you have any idea who might have wanted to kill you and your father?"
"No. He didn't have an enemy in the world. We were too poor to have anything to steal."
"Did you father keep money in the house?"
"Daddy could never keep money anywhere. If he didn't spend it staying in hotels, he spent it looking for his lost gold mines." After she'd said it, she seemed to wish she hadn't. She was angry.
Zac opened his mouth to speak, but Tyler gave him a look that caused him to shut it again.
"Did he ever find any gold?" Tyler asked.
"A little now and then, but never enough to make it worthwhile. He wouldn't tell anybody where he went, but nobody wanted to know."
"I thought you said you had cattle."
"We do, but Daddy never had many cows to sell. Anything he got he could drink up in fine brandy in less than a month."
Rustlers, maybe, but Walter Singleton's operation was so small Tyler doubted any rustler would have a reason to kill him. Certainly not enough to corner him in his house and burn it over him.
"If rustlers keep stealing your cows, maybe you can get Tyler to look for your mine," Zac suggested.
"Only a fool would spend his life looking for lost gold mines," Daisy said with a vehemence that startled Tyler. "It ruined my father's life. He was always so sure he was on the verge of making a fabulous strike. He couldn't think of anything else unless it was drinking brandy and telling people what he was going to do when he struck it rich.
"It killed my mother. She hated the desert. She hated the heat and the loneliness and the scorpions. She was raised pampered and spoiled, but she worked herself into an early grave for daddy. She wouldn't hear a word against his gold mine." Daisy glared at Tyler. "Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?"
Zac's gaze found Tyler during the awkward silence that followed, but neither of them responded to her question.
"Is your family from Bernalillo or Albuquerque?" Tyler asked.
"Neither. I don't have any relatives."
"Everybody has relatives," Zac said. "We've got loads of them all over back East."
"Well, I've probably got loads of them all over back East, too," Daisy mimicked, "but I wouldn't spend one minute under any of their roofs."
"Why?"
"None of your business."
"You don't have to get huffy. I don't want to know. I was just asking to be polite."
"You can take me to the Cochranes in Albuquerque," Daisy said. "Adora Cochrane is my very best friend."
"Good," Zac said, his feelings still hurt. "We'll see about getting you there as soon as there's a break in the snow."
"You needn't bother to accompany me. Just lend me one of your mules. Mr. Cochrane will see it's returned."
"Give you a mule!" Zac exclaimed. "We might as well give it to the first rustler who happens by."
Tyler stood up and pushed Zac back down on the bed. "You need your rest. All this talking has given you a fever."
"I don't have a fever."
"You'll have a broken head if you don't shut your mouth."
"Why are you such a sore head?"
"It comes from being around you." Tyler turned to Daisy. "My brother and his wife are in Albuquerque just now. I'll take you to them."
"I don't want to go to your brother," Daisy objected. "I want to go to the Cochranes."
"I'll leave it up to Hen to decide if that's a good idea."
"You'll do what!"
"He's a much better judge of people than I am. He--"
"I'm perfectly capable of judging for myself," Daisy declared. "I insist you take me to the Cochranes."
"We're not going anywhere at the moment. There are a couple of problems--"
"Such as?"
"We'll talk about them later," Tyler said. "You've just had a terrible shock. You need to rest. Do you think you can sleep?"
"Not until you promise to take me to the Cochranes."
"Try."
"You're not going to promise, are you?"
"You're tired. We'll talk about it later."
She lay back, but Tyler suspected she wouldn't sleep, not now anyway. He didn't want to leave her, but she did need to rest. He could see the exhaustion in her eyes. Besides, he had to take care of the livestock and cut the meat. If he didn't get started, he'd be late with dinner.
"I've got some work to do outside," he told her. "If you need anything, ask Zac."
"I'd rather not."
"Yell if you want me."
"I'd rather not."
So she wanted to sulk. That was okay with him. He sat down to put on his heavy shoes. When he had laced them up, he put on some gloves with the fingertips cut out and his heavy sheepskin jacket with the hood. "I should be back in an hour. Try to get some sleep."
He opened the door and stepped out into the howling blizzard.
* * * * *
Try to get some sleep!
She had just remembered her father was dead and he wanted her to sleep. All she wanted to do was go to the Cochranes. Yet he insisted upon taking her to more strangers who couldn't possibly understand her grief. She didn't exactly want people to pity her or shower her with sympathy, but a little understanding would help. Didn't these men have parents? Didn't they have any idea what it was like for her to lose the last of her family?
Her mind drifted to the many evenings when, as a little girl, she had sat in her father's lap as he read to her. Long after she could read for herself, she would sit entranced while he read to her, adding any details that stuck his fancy. He had a way of making her forget the long weeks and months when he wasn't around.
Even after she grew up and he changed toward her, she tried to love him. She felt guilty when she couldn't. He was as unaware of the pain he caused her as he was incapable to changing.
She missed her mother even more. Harriet Singleton had been reared to expect comfort and servants, but she accepted the life her husband gave her because she loved him passionately. Daisy could remember the hours they had spent working together in the kitchen or trying to coax food from their rocky garden patch, the years of sharing dreams for her future. More than once she had watched her mother stare at her cracked and bleeding hands, tears pouring down her face. She had sworn that someday, somehow . . .
But it was too late now. They were both gone now.
The tears started to roll again. She made no attempt to stop them. There was nobody to see her. She was alone. That thought only made her cry harder. She searched in her pockets for something to wipe her eyes but found nothing. She wiped them on the sheet. More tears poured forth. She let them roll down her cheeks. She leaned back against the pillow and propped herself up in the angle formed by the bedpost and the wall. A soft sob escaped her. She froze momentarily, fearful that Zac would hear her.
But no more sobs came. She sat in silence, the tears the only sign of her broken heart.
* * * * *
Tyler entered the cabin in a shower of snow. The wind tried to force its way in, but he closed it out with a negligent push of one shoulder. The sound of the slamming door wasn't very loud, but it reminded him he was no longer alone in the cabin. His gaze cut to the beds where Zac and Daisy slept.
Daisy sat propped up in the corner, sound asleep. As he drew closer, he cou
ld see the trails of tears that had dried on her cheeks.
She had cried herself to sleep.
He didn't know why that should make him feel so awful. She needed to cry. It would only be worse in the end if she didn't. But there was something about the loneliness of it that bothered him. He never minded being alone, but he sensed she did, that she would always prefer people and cities to isolation and wide-open spaces.
Yet she had been forced to mourn the loss of her only family in solitude, in virtual silence. Worse, neither he nor Zac understood. Worse still, they hadn't tried very hard.
He stood looking at her. She didn't look unattractive, just woebegone, but he doubted she'd appreciate the difference. Women put a lot of stock in looks, too much to his way of thinking. Hell, some of the best people he knew were ugly as sin. Besides, they were all going to get old and wrinkled in the end. It would be hardest on those who looked the prettiest when they were young.
He doubted Daisy felt that way, but she was lucky to be an only child. He'd suffered his whole life from having six brothers who were all better looking than he was -- Madison who'd steal your shirt and cut your heart out for a dollar; Zac who didn't care about anyone but himself; the twins who were so stunning they only had to walk down the street together to have women feel faint; Jeff whose sullen moods seemed to attract more women than they repelled; George who was everybody's idea of a perfect son. Rose had once told Tyler he had grown the beard so nobody could compare him to his brothers.
Rose always did see too much.
He wondered if Daisy thought he was ugly. Of course she did. She couldn't think otherwise with Zac around.
Tyler told himself to stop being foolish. Daisy disliked him too much to care what he looked like. She was even less interested in whether he was hiding behind his beard to escape comparison with his brothers. She'd probably forget him within a week after she left.
But he wouldn't forget her. He had never held any woman in his arms while she cried out her grief. He knew that had changed a part of him forever.
Daisy Page 3
