Of course, if he wasn’t so worried about making a fool of himself, he wouldn’t wait. He’d go now.
From around the corner of the house he heard the creak of dry hinges. The cellar door, if his memory served him.
He concentrated on picking up one foot at a time without leaning his weight on the crutches. He was doing pretty good. He reached the cellar without working up a sweat. A week ago just walking the length of his bed had been a major feat.
The cellar door gaped open. From somewhere down the old wooden steps fitted into the earthen slope, he heard Sunny moving around. She was humming. There came a scraping sound followed by a crash. Then, “Ah, damm!”
Ash grinned. After all the times she’d told him not to swear. “You all right down there?” he called.
He strained his ears and barely heard her muttered, “Thunderation.”
“Sunny?”
Down in the dim cellar Sunny swore again at the narrow confines that trapped her between the shelves. That had been her last jar of pickles. Hellfire. How was she supposed to surprise the girls and Ash with a picnic Saturday without pickles? Who ever heard of a pickleless picnic?
If she just had more room down here, things like this wouldn’t happen. She wouldn’t now be fighting a sneeze from the smell of vinegar, dill, and wet earth.
“Sunny, if you don’t answer me I’m coming down there, and I’ll probably break my neck doing it and you’ll feel real bad because it will be your fault.”
“Ahhh choo!” She grinned in spite of herself. He was worried about her, which just proved she’d been right. He did care about her. But after all he’d put her through by keeping her at arm’s length, she wasn’t about to make things too easy for him.
“Sunny!”
“What!” she bellowed back while fighting a grin.
“Are you all right?”
He didn’t sound worried now, he sounded mad. Good. Mad was better than cool reserve, which was about all she’d gotten out of him lately. Mad proved again that he cared.
She started up the stairs. “I’ve got to get this cellar dug out so we’ll have more room.”
When she poked her head up through the door he said, “Company’s coming.”
She followed his line of sight and saw a dust cloud billowing up along the road from town and drawing closer as she watched. “Looks like a buggy.”
Ash glanced toward the house, then the road. She knew what he was thinking. Whoever was coming, Ash didn’t want to be seen struggling with his crutches. She wasn’t surprised when he said, “I’m tired. Think I’ll go inside.”
It was a stupid worry, as far as she was concerned, but she understood about male pride. “The back door’s closer,” she offered without looking at him.
While he made his way one careful step at a time toward the back, Sunny went to the front porch and waited for her company. She started to whip off her apron and turn it around to the clean side, but paused. If it was Ian Baxter coming out here again she didn’t want to look presentable.
Lord, she hoped it wasn’t him.
It wasn’t. It was Ella, with her arm still in a sling.
And, oh dear. Sheriff Jamison. The one who didn’t believe Ash’s story.
She turned her apron around to the clean side, then smoothed it down her skirt. Clean side or not, she was still a mess. Her hair was coming out of its braid, the hem of her dress was wet, and she smelled a lot like pickle juice.
But she was truly glad to see Ella. She greeted her guests warmly.
After helping Ella down from the buggy, the sheriff led the horse to the water trough near the corral. Right next to where the barn once stood.
Sunny led Ella inside the house and was startled to find Ash seated in his wheelchair. She’d halfway expected him to close himself off in his room.
Ella presented Ash with a bundle of his belongings she’d gathered from his room at the boarding house. Fresh clothes, his own razor, his hat…his revolver.
By the time Sunny had poured coffee and brought it to the parlor, Sheriff Jamison had joined them.
“Get tired of lookin’ at your barn, did ya?”
“Jedediah,” Ella cautioned.
Sunny sat next to Ella on the sofa.
“Just kidding,” the sheriff said. “We heard about it in town. Terrible accident, but at least it didn’t happen in the middle of winter, when you really needed the barn.”
“There was no accident to it,” Ash said, looking Jamison straight in the eye.
“Well, now.” Jamison leaned his elbows on his knees. He dangled his hat from his fingers. “Funny you should say so. That’s something else we heard in town.”
“Jedediah—”
“Hush, Ella,” he told her kindly. “You know I don’t believe what they’re saying, but the boy—uh, McCord needs to know what’s being said.”
“What are you talking about?” Sunny asked. “What’s being said about what?”
Ella frowned fiercely at the sheriff. “Nothing’s being said. Jed is just repeating gossip, like an old biddy.”
“It’s still gossip he needs to know,” Jamison said firmly.
“So tell me,” Ash said.
Jamison squirmed in the big, leather wingback chair that had belonged to Ross Thorton. “Well, there’s a couple of different stories going around. First is, now that you got Miss Sunny to bring you out here and look after you, you’re trying to get her to marry you so you can get your ranch back.”
Sunny felt her cheeks heat up. She wanted to protest, but her tongue wouldn’t cooperate. She didn’t dare look at Ash. He might see that maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t mind that one being true.
“Then there’s the other one,” Jamison said. “This one is about how, now that you got Miss Sunny to bring you out here, you’re trying to run her off so you can have the ranch to yourself.”
“And just how am I supposed to be trying to run her off?”
She heard the steel, the controlled anger in Ash’s voice.
“By burning down her barn and scaring her off.”
“That’s a lie!” Sunny shouted. “He did no such thing.”
Jamison narrowed his eyes. “Notice you didn’t say anything about that first rumor.”
Sunny came to her feet, too agitated to sit. She waved his words away. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She forgot her embarrassment in the heat of both unjust accusations. “He would no more marry me than he would burn down my barn.”
“Folks in town are saying he’s doing both.”
“Well folks in town are wrong.” She glanced at Ash, wondering why he wasn’t defending himself.
The cold, deadly look he gave the sheriff made her shudder. “Take me back to town with you,” he demanded.
“No!” Ella and Sunny cried together.
Ash ignored Sunny and looked at Ella. “You don’t want me around any more?”
“Oh, Asher, you know better than that!” Ella cried.
The sheriff shook his head. “Sorry, McCord, but this is one time I have to agree with the ladies. You going back to town just now ain’t a good idea.”
“My staying here’s an even worse one.”
Sunny bit her tongue to keep from begging him not to go.
“Nobody will bother you here. You’re safe. Which is more than I can say you’d be if you went to town.”
Ash narrowed his eyes. “Your concern for my welfare is touching. Where the hell was it five years ago?”
“You mean you think something might happen to him in town?” Sunny asked.
“I’d rather have it happen in town than out here, where you’d be involved,” Ash said to her curtly.
It was ridiculous to want to smile with all the talk of something happening to Ash, but smile was what Sunny wanted to do. He was thinking of her welfare again.
“Well you ain’t going,” the sheriff said. “Now tell me about the barn. What makes you think it wasn’t an accident?”
Sunny left the telling to Ash whil
e she poured more coffee.
“Got any idea who could have done it?” Jamison asked Ash.
Ash pursed his lips. “If it was just me involved, I wouldn’t bother saying anything. But Sunny and her sisters could have been hurt, or worse.”
“And?”
“And, there is someone who’s angry with her for having me here, someone whose marriage proposal she had just turned down that same day, someone who’s trying to get her off the ranch.”
“Ah, hellfire, boy, you ain’t gonna—”
“Jedediah,” Ella warned.
The sheriff clamped his jaws shut and glared at Ella and Ash.
“I am gonna,” Ash said fiercely. “If you don’t take your blinders off when it comes to Ian Baxter, somebody else’s life is going to be destroyed. He already killed my father to get this ranch. I’ll prove that before I leave town. And now Sunny’s the only one standing in his way.”
“Ian Baxter is not going to hurt Miss Sunny,” Jamison said.
Ash beat his fist against the arm of the wheelchair. “She damned near died in that fire!”
Sunny stared out the front window at the rain dripping off the roof. A shiver raised goose bumps down her arms. She’d almost lost Ash that day Ella and the sheriff were here. He would have gone back to town with them had they let him.
She rubbed her arms, trying to rid herself of a chill. It was scary how much she wanted him to stay. But he wouldn’t stay. She knew that. As soon as he could mount a horse—sooner, if he had his way—he’d be gone.
And she’d be alone. Except for her sisters, of course, but that was different. There would never be another man who would make her feel the way Ash McCord did. Who made her dream the things she’d dreamed again last night. His hands. His lips.
It was painful, loving him the way she did.
Yes, she could admit it now, if only to herself. She was in love with him. But she knew if she told him how she felt he’d crawl back to town if he had to, just to get away from her.
No, she wouldn’t tell him. Instead, she’d live each moment as best she could while he was with her. She’d build up memories. Memories to live on.
Today was supposed to have been a day for making memories. It was the day she’d planned to surprise Ash and the girls with a picnic. But the rain caused her to keep quiet about it. She’d surprise them next Saturday.
The young rooster she’d planned to fry would have another week to fatten up. On a cattle ranch, where beef was served at nearly every meal, fried chicken would be a treat.
If the rain would just stop.
Ash watched the rain from his bedroom window and cursed himself. He should have insisted Jamison take him back to town. He didn’t need looking after anymore. His legs were getting stronger every day, and he was able to take care of himself.
But he’d let the three of them talk him into staying.
Fool.
It didn’t help to know that the real reason he’d stayed was because he wasn’t ready to leave Sunny yet. He wasn’t ready to live without her laughter, or her smile. Without the smell of lilacs.
Would he ever be?
It was a question he was afraid to answer.
But it didn’t matter. As soon as he could mount a horse and stay in the saddle long enough to make it to town, he’d go. He had to.
The talk in town disturbed him. He thought he wouldn’t care what they said about him, but he did. Because it reflected badly on Sunny. He couldn’t let them talk about her, speculate about her and the ex-convict.
No, he had to leave.
Soon.
But a week later, when Sunny announced at breakfast that they were all going on a picnic, he was still there.
The girls thought a picnic was a terrific idea. Privately, Ash did too. But he wasn’t about to go with them, so he kept quiet and ate his breakfast. One by one, as they finished, the girls disappeared from the kitchen, leaving him alone with Sunny. He pushed his chair away from the table and reached for his crutches.
“No, stay,” Sunny said. “Have another cup of coffee with me and tell me you’re going on the picnic with us.”
He shook his head. “I’m not going.”
“Why?” No coy glances, no pleading, no beating around the bush. Just, “Why?”
“Picnics are for kids.”
She set her mug down and smiled. It was a sad looking smile. “You’re wrong.” Even her voice seemed sad. Sad and soft. “Picnics are for everyone.”
“They’re for families.” He looked her straight in the eye to make certain she paid attention. “I’m not part of this family.”
She looked straight back at him. “I know that. But picnics are also for men who don’t have a family. Men who haven’t even been around a family in years. They’re for men who are leaving soon, men who won’t be back.” She reached across the table toward his hand. Her touch went through him like a bolt of lightning. “They’re for enjoying in the sunshine and remembering later, when it’s cold and dark and you’re alone. They’re to look back on and smile over. Give us that, Ash. Give the girls and you and me something to look back on and smile over.”
“Sunny, I…” He looked away, anywhere but into those soft golden eyes. He was amazed to see his own hand gripping hers. When had he let go of his mug? Why had he let go of it?
He shied away from the answer.
“And just in case a beautiful day in the sunshine with four charming ladies isn’t enough,” she said, smiling, “I’m prepared to offer more.”
Her direct gaze threatened to unnerve him. “More? Like what?” All sorts of possibilities ran through his mind. Most of them had to do with her lips. And his. He shivered.
“Like, when’s the last time you tasted fried chicken?”
Chapter Fifteen
At Sunny’s direction, Ash guided the team north toward Cottonwood Creek and the grove of willows and cottonwoods he hoped still stood at the little bend he remembered.
“It’s a perfect day for a picnic,” Sunny said.
She was so close to him on the wagon seat that their hips almost touched, but he refused to look at her. He didn’t need to see her to remember she looked fresh as morning dew, even though she’d been cooking half the day. Her pink gingham dress was crisp and neat and the bodice, much to his dismay, fit snugly. That prim little white collar with tiny rosebuds embroidered along the edge was as demure as could be, along with its matching cuffs at the ends of her long sleeves. So was the white straw hat with its cluster of pink flowers fastened where the brim met the crown. It was held in place by a wide pink bow tied at a jaunty angle beneath her right jaw.
Altogether the picture she presented was cool and proper, prim and young. And tempting as hell. She looked good enough to eat. He didn’t dare look at her. He tugged the brim of his hat down lower.
Besides, if he looked at her, he’d either grab her and start kissing her, or start laughing. At her, at himself.
Her and her damned fried chicken.
He couldn’t believe a grown man with more important things on his mind, like his entire future, could be tempted and coerced by the smell of chicken frying on the stove. All she’d had to do was say it and his mouth watered. Then she’d started cooking, and he’d lost the battle completely.
Weak, McCord. You’re weak.
But she was right. It was a beautiful day for a picnic. The sky was a brilliant turquoise blue without a trace of clouds. The sun was warm and the air was…perfect.
And there were bluebonnets. Clumps of them here and there. Firewheels and Indian blankets added a colorful dash of red to the landscape, but it was bluebonnets he’d dreamed about in prison. There was no color in prison. Except gray and brown and black, the colors of despair. And the frequent splash of blood.
The memories had his hands tensing on the reins. The horses felt it. He focused on the clump of bluebonnets closest to the top of the rise and let the sight soothe him. The sight of bluebonnets ahead, and the smell of lilacs beside him.
At the top of the rise he nearly jerked on the reins. More bluebonnets. At least a mile in every direction. A solid blanket of them.
“Oh, look!” Katy cried from the bed of the wagon.
Amy and Rachel squealed in delight.
“How beautiful,” Sunny whispered.
He looked at her then. Yes. Beautiful.
He guided the team down into the blue field. The girls’ voices rose around him:
“Bluebonnet, bluebonnet, grow blue and strong
Right here in Texas, where you belong.”
This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have come. Sunny and her sisters made him want things he couldn’t have. At least not here, not now. Not ever in this county. Maybe not even in this lifetime.
He wanted home and family and love and friends. Cattle to work, a range to ride, a ranch to run. A woman to love.
His hands shook on the reins.
He wanted Sunny Thornton.
Beside him she raised her arm and pointed. “Over there.”
He guided the team toward the bend in the creek and stopped in the shade of a tall cottonwood. The girls didn’t wait for him to help them from the wagon. It was just as well, because he’d let Sunny talk him into leaving his crutches at the house, and he was moving a little slow.
While they spread the quilt in the grass beside a willow at the edge of the creek, he took care of the horses.
She was probably right about the crutches. She hadn’t said it out loud, but he’d seen it in her eyes. His need for the crutches these days was really more in his head than in his legs.
That she understood was not surprising. What surprised him was that she acknowledged it, silently, and urged him to do without the crutches.
She’d been adamant about his not leaving the ranch when Ella and Jamison had come out more than a week ago. He wasn’t well enough, she’d said.
Had he been wrong when he’d thought she was feeling for him some of what he was feeling for her? The way she’d argued to keep him from going to town had been more than just because of his health. He’d seen the stark yearning in her eyes.
So why was she now urging him to give up the crutches, to take the next step, literally, toward full recovery? Had she changed her mind? Was she now trying to get rid of him?
Wild Texas Flame Page 18
