He walked up the hill as his thoughts tumbled and churned. It was exasperating, all that was going on under his scalp. Kit and Sam were his concern, made so by Oscar’s will, but also by Oscar’s friendship. That part Clay understood. What swam about uncontrollably, and had him somewhat off center, was the growing desire he felt. It was deeper now than when he’d wanted to kiss her, and had grown soft and gentle as he’d watched her with Sam.
Every time Kit spoke, his heart fluttered, and when she giggled that adorable little laugh she had, his heart thudded. Pounded like he’d never known it could. And the excitement in his stomach … what was that? Oh, he’d experienced it before. Would never forget the first time, when he’d seen the massive vein of gold running along the wall in the Wanda Lou. He still felt a rush when he saw veins, but nothing like that first one. It had been life changing, and he’d known that from the moment he saw it.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he returned to the cave. He stopped near the opening, leaned against the rock. Life changing?
She’d done that, all right. Turned his life upside down since arriving in Colorado. The question Sam had asked earlier reappeared, and had Clay leaning harder against the rock. He’d already grown attached to her, and certainly didn’t want her to go back to Chicago. That drew up more questions, namely, about what he did want.
“Riders coming in,” Sam said, appearing at the cave entrance.
“I don’t hear anything,” Kit said, stepping out beside her brother.
“Listen,” he instructed.
She held her breath, listening with all she had, but it wasn’t until she closed her eyes that a very faint tinkle merged with the dead silence.
“Hear that?”
She nodded.
Sam pointed toward the back of the cave. “Tunnels lead off this room in all directions. Dirt falls when the ground trembles. And the ground trembles when something runs over it.” He turned to Clay. “They’re coming from the Wanda Lou.”
Clay pushed away from the rock wall, and the look on his face had Kit moving as well, rushing forward.
His smile instantly calmed the slight tremor of fear that had formed in her stomach, even before he said, “There’s nothing to worry about.” His hand settled on her back. “Should we go see who it is?”
She nodded, able to face anything when he was near.
“Did you enjoy your lunch?” he asked as they walked to the side of the hill.
“Yes.”
He lifted a brow.
She giggled. “To be perfectly honest, I love peaches. Always have.”
He gave a single nod. “Peach pie.”
That he remembered such insignificant details about her sent something in her whirling with enchantment. “Yes.” Shadows stretched across the ground, making her realize how long she and Sam had talked. Glancing around, she asked, “Where’d he go?”
Clay turned and pointed to the rocks jutting out of the mountain above the cave. “Up there.”
She scanned for a figure among the boulders and trees, but was still searching when Sam’s voice said, “It’s the land agent.”
A deep frown appeared on Clay’s face. “Did you tell Clarice you were coming to my house this morning?”
“No,” she answered. “Why?”
“Then that would be Jonathan looking for you.”
“Me?” She shook her head. “Why?”
“I didn’t tell anyone you were with me. They’ve probably been looking for you all day.”
“Why?”
“You want me to let him in?” Sam asked from above them.
“Yes,” Clay yelled. “He’s here to take Kit home.”
Sam hollered down the hill, but Kit wasn’t listening. “I’m not ready to leave,” she said.
“You can come back and visit Sam another day,” Clay said, taking her arm.
During the past few hours, even while talking about her mother and grandparents, she hadn’t forgotten what Clay had said—that he’d promised Oscar he’d take care of her, of them, her and Sam—and it had stewed inside her until her stomach ached. Somehow along the way, she’d thought Clay was there because he liked her, but listening to Sam talk about how Clay had to oversee even his spending money, she’d started to wonder about other things.
“Did you know who I was from the beginning?” she asked.
“What?”
“When did you know I was Oscar’s granddaughter?”
A deep frown sat between Clay’s brows. “Why?”
“Because I want to know.”
“Shortly after we arrived in Nevadaville.”
The pounding of horse hooves sounded, along with a shout. “Kit! Thank goodness you’re all right.”
She turned to see Jonathan jumping off a big bay horse. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” he continued, rushing forward.
“Of course—” The words stopped as her mouth was pressed into Jonathan’s shirt when he grasped her shoulders and pulled her against him, hugging her hard. She liked Jonathan, but his hold made her uncomfortable. There was only one man she wanted hugging her. Yet that couldn’t be because she was a job to him, something she only comprehended now—after hearing Sam describe how seriously Clay took the task of being Sam’s guardian, how rigidly he upheld the terms of Grandpa’s will. Pulling out of the embrace, she took a step away. “Of course I’m all right. I’m perfectly fine.”
Jonathan kept one hand on her shoulder. “Clarice and I went to see how you were doing, after church this morning, and Mimmie Mae didn’t know where you were. No one did.” He turned to Clay. “Half the town is looking for her.”
“I should have thought of that,” Clay said. “I’ll get her horse.”
A spell of panic gripped Kit and she moved, didn’t stop until she’d caught up with Clay. “Aren’t you coming?”
“No, I’m going to stay and talk to Sam.” Clay untied Rachel’s reins and started leading the horse back toward the cave.
“Why?”
He had yet to meet Kit’s gaze. “I need to talk to him.”
“About what?” she asked.
“Several things.” He stepped around her.
She twirled and took long strides to stay beside him. “Then I’ll stay, too.”
“No, you go on back with Jonathan.” He stopped near the saddles and threw the blanket over Rachel’s back. “The ride home takes longer. I probably won’t make it back before dark.”
“I’m not afraid of the dark,” she insisted.
His back stiffened, and Kit watched as he drew in a deep breath, as if he was holding it in frustration. She could relate. Annoyance zipped around inside her faster than bumblebees gathering nectar. There were still things she wanted to ask Sam, but more than that, she didn’t want to return with anyone but Clay.
“Just ride home with Jonathan, Kit,” he said.
She held in yet another protest, but it was hard. In some ways Clay reminded her of Gramps, and how he’d always insisted she and Grandma couldn’t go with him to Colorado, no matter how hard Kit had begged. Even though she now understood Grandpa’s reason, the pain of being left was gurgling inside her like it had all those years ago. She told herself that was silly, that Clay wasn’t leaving her behind, yet the sense of being on her own again wouldn’t ease.
“It was good seeing you, Kit. Maybe you can stop out again before you head back to Chicago. I’m always around, lest I’m tracking a critter,” Sam said, stepping up beside her.
The mention of returning to Chicago sent her thoughts in another direction. She wouldn’t be returning anytime soon, not now that she’d met Sam, but she couldn’t overstep her welcome, either. Drawing a breath, she braced inwardly, as she used to when Gramps left, telling herself she’d see both Sam and Clay soon.
“I’d like that, Sam,” she said. “Thank you for the offer. And thank you for lunch. I enjoyed it very much.”
Sam’s cheeks grew pink and he shuffled his feet. “It’s kinda nice, meeting m
y kin.”
Kit took a chance, a big one, and leaned forward to give him a quick hug. “I agree. It’s very nice.”
His shoulders and spine were stiff as a board, but he did pat her back once before he stepped away, and then took off for the cave as if something was chasing him.
When she turned, Jonathan was at her side, ready to help her onto Rachel’s back. Clay had moved, now stood near the cave entrance, and there was a peculiar pulling sensation inside her when he tipped his hat her way. She climbed in the saddle and waved as the horse started forward.
The journey home was long. Jonathan was full of questions at first, but after frowning at her few clipped answers, he stopped making small talk, and they simply rode. The terrain wasn’t as treacherous as the way she and Clay had taken. The rail tracks provided a well-worn trail, used by the mules to pull the ore carts from the mine to Nevadaville. It was only a few miles, but the trail had to wind its way down the side of the mountain to keep the grade from being too steep.
Kit didn’t mind. It gave her time to reflect and eventually stew—mainly because with all that had happened, the thing still foremost in her mind was kissing Clay. Absurd, that’s what it was. Yet it was there, smack-dab in the center of her mind, as was the fact that he’d called her a job. Well, he’d said it was his job—watching out for her and Sam.
Steam built up inside her, burning her chest and eyes. If that wasn’t about the finest how-do ever. Being someone’s job.
There was no need for someone to watch over her. She’d got along just fine back in Chicago, and would do so out here as well.
The churning in her stomach increased. She’d been fine, but it had been so terribly lonely, and deep down, that’s the part that was hurting. Eventually, she’d have to go back to Chicago. Face Mr. Watson, who was not going to be happy. He’d been kind to her, checking on her as he had, and she should have told him she was going, even though he’d never told her about Sam.
All of that didn’t play around in her mind as deeply as Clay continued to, however.
A shout sounded from somewhere, making her scan the hillside.
“Yes!” Jonathan replied, yelling down the mountain to where several people stood. “I found her.”
It was as if a dozen people stepped forward then, rushing up the trail to meet them where the tracks curved toward the stamping mill.
Mimmie Mae practically tugged her from the saddle. “Oh, girl, girl, girl. We have been so worried about you.”
Kit opened her mouth, but little more than a short squeak emitted as Ty Reins grabbed her waist and finished pulling her off Rachel.
He gave her a solid hug. “We got half the town out looking for you.” When he let her loose, he yelled, “Raymond, go tell Chet to sound the whistle to let the others know we found her.”
A big man with a heavy stock of blond hair waved before he swung around and barreled down the hill.
“You come with me, now,” Mimmie Mae said, pulling her forward. “Where’d you find her?” the woman asked, looking at Jonathan.
“She was with Clay up at Sam’s cave.”
“Where’s Clayton now?”
The fury in Mimmie Mae’s voice sent a shiver slicing through Kit. Her head was spinning from all the commotion, and without thought—other than that Clay wasn’t to blame for her absence—she answered, “He’s still up at Sam’s. I wanted to meet—”
“Well, I’ll give that man a talking to. That I will,” Mimmie Mae insisted, pulling her down the hill.
“Why?”
“For taking you off and not telling anyone. Miss Clarice was downright frantic when she didn’t find you in your room.”
Kit’s stomach gurgled. She hadn’t meant to cause such turmoil, and certainly hadn’t wanted to upset Clarice. The guilt grew, making her insist, “It’s not Clay’s fault. I asked him to take me to see Sam.”
“Yes, well, he should never have done that without telling someone.” Even the screeching whistle splitting the air didn’t lessen the fury lacing Mimmie Mae’s voice.
“Oh, Kit!” Clarice shoved her way through the growing crowd. “I was so worried about you.”
This kind of concern for her welfare was uncanny. These people barely knew her. “I’m sorry,” Kit said. Her apology seemed insignificant compared to the size of the crowd. “Truly,” she repeated, glancing around at the horde of people. “I’m very sorry. I never expected—”
“You’re part of the community, Kit. Family,” Clarice said, hugging her. “We had to go looking for you, but as long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters.”
Family?
“I’m fine,” she assured her, too stunned to grasp all she was feeling inside. “I really am. I wanted to meet Sam and Clay offered to take me.”
“Let’s get her to the hotel,” Mimmie Mae said. “Are you hungry, child?”
“Did you see Sam?” Clarice asked at the same time.
“No,” Kit said to Mimmie Mae, before turning to Clarice. “Yes, I did.”
“How is he?” Clarice asked, concern and affection filling her voice.
“Why that boy doesn’t move to town is beyond me,” Mimmie Mae muttered, still marching forward as if on a crusade.
“He’s fine,” Kit assured Clarice, before she responded to Mimmie Mae. A growing need had her defending Sam. “Because he doesn’t want to. He likes his place.”
“But it’s a cave,” the hotel owner insisted.
Kit was growing short-winded keeping up with the fast pace, but there was no suggestion the older woman would slow down. “Maybe it’s a cave to us, but to Sam it’s his home. And he’s proud of it.” The truth in her words had Kit’s mind connecting with her heart. Sam was proud of his home, and she was proud of him.
The crowd dispersed as they walked along the street. People she barely remembered seeing before, and several she knew she’d never met, said goodbye and expressed their happiness that she was home safe and sound, as they put it, before moving along to attend other tasks. Mimmie Mae and Clarice continued to lead her to the hotel, where they insisted she eat and then sent her upstairs for a bath and bed.
Kit, thankful for the time alone, gathered a clean set of clothes and made her way into the bathing chamber at the end of the hall. She’d lived in Chicago her entire life, and knew many people, but if she was gone for a day, no one would have come looking for her. Then again, any of her neighbors could have been gone for a day and she wouldn’t have bothered looking for them, either. They were nice people, and had been kind and generous upon Grandpa’s and Grandma’s deaths. It was just different here. As if the entire town was one big family.
And they considered her a part of that.
Kit contemplated the concept. The entire day, actually. The way the town went looking for her. Meeting her brother for the first time. His somewhat unorthodox home. When her mind shifted to Clay, she shook her head. The bathwater would be ice-cold by the time she was done contemplating him. And she wouldn’t be any closer than she was right now to understanding why she was so infatuated with him. They’d known each other barely a week, yet the way she missed him, one would have thought they’d known each other their entire lives.
The town was dark, barely a light flickered in a window, yet Clay stood on the boardwalk outside his office, staring at the houses and businesses where people, whole families, were already dozing. Was Kit sleeping? Mimmie Mae had most likely taken control, had her fed, bathed and sent to bed shortly after Jonathan brought her home.
He should go check. Mimmie Mae could be overwhelming. She’d probably give him a what-for the next time he saw her. He should have told someone, anyone, before leaving town this morning, but the thought simply hadn’t crossed his mind.
Clay turned. His house stood on top of the hill, as dark, if not darker, than the rest of town. The weight of the world seemed to descend upon his shoulders, so heavy he had to shift his feet.
Kit knocking on his front door, sitting at the table, crying on his b
ack steps—the images kept coming, and they were harder to face than the ones that had kept him from the house prior to last night.
He rolled his shoulders at the tension and turned, walked up the flight of steps to his office, where piles of papers sat on his desk. Things he needed to see to.
Pulling off his hat, he ran a hand over his forehead. Not even when Miranda had informed him she was leaving for Europe had he let things stack up like this. Yet that’s what had been happening ever since Kit had arrived. The most work he’d completed was installing the new boiler. The physical labor forced him not to think about other things, but when he sat behind the desk, pushing around paper, his mind had a tendency to wander. He’d barely accomplished daily tasks the past week.
It wouldn’t happen tonight, either, so there was no sense in standing here contemplating it. He made his way into the side room that doubled as his living quarters, and stretched out on the bed.
The weight on his shoulders shifted, moved to sit on his chest with suffocating heaviness. He could curse Jonathan for arriving when he had, but that wouldn’t change anything. Especially not the glow that appeared inside Clay whenever Kit’s image formed in his mind. It didn’t take much. A remembrance of something she’d said or did. The way she tilted her head or her lifting giggle. The shimmer in those big brown eyes.
Truth be told, it was a good thing Jonathan had shown up, otherwise something might have happened. Something that could never happen—kissing her again. A real, deep and fulfilling kiss.
His heartbeat picked up. It was annoying, the way he had no control over his body when it came to her. The best thing to do would be to send her back to Chicago. Send Sam with her, for that matter.
As if that would solve all Clay’s problems.
It would if she stayed away another five years. He could marry her then. The stipulations of the will would be fulfilled when she turned twenty-five. A sigh built in his chest. Marry her? That was a hell of a thought. He had no intention of marrying. Not Kit or any other woman. It was all her talk about wanting a family that had his heart going out to her.
Inheriting a Bride Page 17
