She laughed. “Then it shall not be so difficult, n’est-ce pas?”
With a great sigh, Maurice shook his head, bowed and left the house.
Rachel’s heart was almost light as she laid the loaf of bread on the table and took up the knife Maurice had brought. Between him and Joey—and perhaps Jedediah’s nephew, whom she wanted very much to trust—she was beginning to feel she might have friends at Dog Creek.
Joey had been perfectly charming. He was every bit the boy trying to be a man, earnest and serious. But he hadn’t been able to conceal his fascination with the baby. Or his natural friendliness and willingness to help.
In that respect he was very little like the man he so obviously admired.
Rachel’s smile faded as she cut a slice of smoked salt pork. It felt strange to be alone in this house now that the sun had set. The first night noises had brought her to an uneasy alert: coyotes howling, ominous scratchings from behind the walls, the keening of the wind. She was just frightened enough to be angry. Angry that Renshaw hadn’t come back to visit the baby. That his brief show of solicitude before he had left had been worth so little.
But of course he had no concern for her at all.
Checking the lantern to make sure it was still burning well, she listened for the baby in the bedroom. He was still asleep, oblivious to the loneliness that lay so unexpectedly heavy on her own shoulders. She had thought she was accustomed to such loneliness; she’d had so few people to rely upon during her years of struggle. It was ridiculous that she should feel bereft when she was soon to have companionship and a true purpose.
The bitter thought she could never quite conquer rose to mock her hope. What would they think if they knew my shame? If they guessed how thoroughly I have deceived them?
Even Jedediah knew nothing of it. How much more would Holden Renshaw despise her if he was aware of her deepest secret?
Why was his opinion of any concern to her at all?
He will never know. No one here will ever know.
Someone rapped on the door. Her heart fluttered treacherously. Had Holden Renshaw finally returned?
But it was not the foreman. Sean McCarrick tipped his hat and smiled in that same very charming way when they’d first met.
“Mrs. McCarrick,” he said. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Not at all.” She stepped back to let him enter. “Would you be seated?”
He glanced at the table and her plate. “I see that Renshaw actually considered the possibility that you might be hungry.”
“I am sorry I haven’t much to offer you, Mr. McCarrick.”
He took one of the chairs and removed his hat. “I don’t expect anything, ma’am. I just wanted to be sure that you and the baby are safe and well.”
“He is sleeping, thank you.”
“He’s all right, then? I admit I was surprised when I saw Renshaw with him. He’s the last man I’d expect to care about an abandoned child, let alone bring one home with him.”
Though she had entertained the very same thought, Rachel found herself bristling at Sean’s comment. “Yet he did so,” she said tartly.
He regarded her with obvious curiosity. “Has he won your good opinion, Mrs. McCarrick? Offered some defense of his attempt to send you away, perhaps?”
“I did not ask him about it.”
“I completely understand.” He smoothed his fine woolen trousers. “It wouldn’t be wise to confront him, under the circumstances. You’ll have ample opportunity when Jed returns.”
Rachel could not feel at ease, though there was no reason why she should not. They sat quietly for a few moments. Finally Sean cleared his throat.
“I’ve come for another reason, Mrs. McCarrick,” he said. “I’ve left Dog Creek.”
“Left?” she echoed. “But why?”
“I see you are not aware of what transpired after Renshaw gave you the child. It must seem strange to you, ma’am, but it has become impossible to continue here in my uncle’s absence. As I believe I mentioned before, Renshaw abuses the authority my uncle left him, and he treats…well, I have come to find his behavior intolerable.”
That was no surprise, considering the way the two men had glared at one another that morning. Harsh words had hardly been necessary to establish their mutual dislike.
“I’m sorry to hear it, Mr. McCarrick,” she said.
“Sean, please.” He smiled warmly. “Your concern is gratifying.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the door. “I have no desire to create trouble for you, which is why I have come to speak with you while Renshaw is absent. He has resented me ever since he came here three years ago. It has always been his intention to turn my uncle against me and steal Dog Creek.” He sighed. “Jedediah is a good, honest man—too trusting, I’m afraid. As difficult as it is to believe, Renshaw has been very skilled in making himself Jedediah’s confidant. He schemed to convince Jed that I was unworthy to act as foreman.”
Renshaw hardly seemed capable of such subtlety, but Rachel had not seen him with Jedediah. “It’s a terrible thing to be shut out by your own people,” she said, her voice thick with memory.
“It is, ma’am. A hard thing indeed.” He leaned forward, searching her eyes. “You speak as though you know how it feels.”
Had she been just a little less uncertain, she might have confided in him. It would be such a relief. But she knew it would have been the height of folly to admit even part of the truth.
“My parents died when I was very young,” she said.
“My deepest sympathies, Mrs. McCarrick.”
“Rachel,” she said, trying to smile. “It was a very long time ago.”
“I was also an orphan,” he said. “When my father died, Jedediah took me in and raised me as his own son.” He laid his hand over hers. “We have something in common, Rachel. I think we’ll be good friends.”
His words were too bold, and she drew her hand away. “I hope you will feel more welcome here when Jedediah returns.”
He leaned back again. “I hope you’ll speak to my uncle on my behalf. I have no doubt he’ll listen to you.” He hesitated. “I also hope you’ll take my advice, Rachel, and remain alert to any attempts Renshaw may make to undermine your position here. He will no doubt attempt to frighten you away.”
“I am Jedediah’s wife,” Rachel said. “Even if he were to dare attempt it, I assure you that I will not allow him to intimidate me.”
“I believe you. I don’t believe he will resort to physical means, but he is by nature a violent man. Be wary.” He rose abruptly. “I’ve taken too much of your time. If you should need an advocate, I won’t be far away. I’m staying with the Blackwells and hope to have employment with them very soon. Send a hand with a message to Blackwater anytime.”
It seemed a gallant offer, though Rachel could not quite shake the feeling that Sean expected greater intimacy than she was prepared to give. She rose to see him to the door. “Thank you for coming, Sean,” she said. “You have made me feel very welcome.”
“The least I can do for kin.” He tipped his hat. “I hope to see you again soon, Rachel.”
As soon as he had gone, she went back to the bedroom. The baby was just beginning to stir. He opened his blue eyes and smiled.
She knelt beside the bed. “What am I to think, little one?” she asked him, tracing his cheek with a fingertip. “I ought to trust Jedediah’s nephew. He is the closest thing I have to kin here, and he has been kind.”
So few people had ever been truly kind to her. Yet she couldn’t feel entirely easy with Sean or the things he had said, and upon reflection she began to understand why. He had admitted to a certain weakness of character in his unwillingness to stand up to Jedediah’s foreman in his uncle’s absence. He had suggested that Renshaw had attempted to bribe her in Javelina, yet he had not confronted the foreman with his suspicions. He had clearly suggested that she might find it difficult at Dog Creek while Jedediah was gone—that Holden Renshaw could be a threat to h
er, even capable of violence—yet he was leaving nevertheless. His offer to be her advocate seemed little more than empty words.
And there were other questions. Was she to believe that Jedediah possessed such poor judgment that he would listen to unjustified criticism of his own nephew by his foreman? Was Holden Renshaw so consumed by jealousy and greed that he would scheme to undermine Sean at every turn? Had he given the baby into her care while simultaneously intending to drive her away? How could he hope to make her leave when he had accepted her as Jedediah’s wife? She could make no sense of it.
He ain’t as mean as he looks, Joey had said. The boy seemed to look up to Holden Renshaw as an older brother, perhaps even a father. His account, brief as it was, could not be more thoroughly opposed to Sean’s.
But that only meant she must be even more wary. She knew that if she reported Sean’s visit to Holden Renshaw, or confronted him openly with what Sean had told her, she would get no closer to the truth. Guilty or not, Renshaw would simply deny Sean’s accusations and doubtless fling a few of his own.
That Renshaw could be dangerous she did not doubt; she had determined as much from the very beginning. She did not like him in the least. But those considerations could not possibly illustrate the full truth of his character. Had she not recognized even before Sean’s visit that her first impressions might be wrong?
Eyes like brooding thunderstorms, gliding muscle and a panther’s grace…
Kicking vigorously against the blankets, the baby gurgled. Rachel shivered and kissed his silky forehead, relieved to turn her thoughts to something less perilous. It was already clear that the child would recover from whatever had ailed him. He would live, and thrive, and grow.
“We shall do very well together, you and I,” she said.
For as long as she was permitted to keep him. She would have given a great deal to do so, though her feelings seemed dangerously impulsive. If his parents were never found…if Jed were willing to accept him…
It was too soon to hope. She would go on as she always had, minute by minute, hour by hour, taking each day as it came.
She lay down beside the baby and listened for Holden Renshaw long into the night.
THE UNSEASONABLY hot morning sun had robbed Javelina of life. Anyone with sense was indoors at the saloon next to the general store, in the livery stable or in the few houses that lined the single dusty road through town.
Heath stopped in front of the saloon, helped Lucia Gonzales to dismount from her mule and secured the animal’s lead to the hitching post. It had been a long and dirty ride from the Gonzales place at the far western border of the ranch, but Heath had found what he needed.
He’d expected the pay he’d offered would be enough to convince Lucia to leave the tiny farm her husband and sons struggled to keep alive. There had been an argument between the señora and her man, but it hadn’t lasted very long. Lucia was to live at Dog Creek with her own baby for as long as she was needed, and Luis and their three nearly grown sons would just have to get along without her.
As much as Heath hated to admit it, Lucia was as close to a truly decent woman as he’d ever met. She had made him welcome, insisting he stay overnight in their tiny casa so that she and Heath could start fresh in the morning. And she hadn’t complained once during the ride. She was so quiet he barely knew she was there at all.
Just the opposite of Rachel Lyndon.
Hell. He needed a drink. “We’ll go in for a spell,” he said, giving Bess a command to stay put. “The saloon has a dining room that caters to the stage trade. They’ll have somethin’ for you there.”
Lucia smiled at him. “Gracias, señor.”
He didn’t like being thanked any more than he liked being beholden. He gestured for her to precede him, and they walked through the side door that led into the dining room with its two small tables. It was empty except for two of the three women who lived in Javelina. Neither one of them offered a greeting as Heath showed Lucia to the other table.
“You wait here,” Heath told Lucia. He walked into the saloon and leaned on the bar, catching the bartender’s eye.
“One lemonade,” he said. “And a whiskey. Straight.”
Riley gave him a startled, curious look and went after the drinks. The handful of men at the bar and tables—drifters and unemployed cowhands, mostly—looked up at Heath and went straight back to their drinks. Heath ignored them and picked up the whiskey Riley brought him. The stuff almost always made him feel a little sick; the smell and taste were too strong for his loup-garou senses. He drank it anyway.
The bartender plunked the lemonade on the bar and set him up for another drink. “Heard Jed’s still not back from Kansas,” he said, wiping a glass with a stained towel.
Heath downed the second drink without answering.
“Heard about Jed’s missus,” Riley said.
Heath ordered a third whiskey and nursed it, turning the glass around in his hands.
“They say you found a baby, too,” Riley persisted.
“That’s right.”
It was obvious that Riley wanted to hear a lot more, but he didn’t ask. Heath finished his drink, threw down his money and returned to the dining room with the lemonade. He gave it to Lucia and walked over to the store.
Sonntag greeted him with his merchant’s smile, hovering expectantly. “You found the lady?” he asked.
Heath nodded briefly. Sonntag was one of the few folk in the county who never seemed wary of him. He picked up a roll of cheap cotton and a few other things he thought Mrs. McCarrick might need before Maurice came to town with the wagon. Sonntag called his attention to a fancy painted cradle he claimed he’d just gotten in from San Antonio.
“The best money can buy,” the storekeeper said in his thick German accent. “Where did you find the baby, Herr Renshaw?”
Heath straightened from his inspection and gave Sonntag a steady look. “Be best if people kept more to themselves and worried less about other people’s business.”
Sonntag stood his ground. “You have done a good thing, Mr. Renshaw.”
Heath nudged the cradle with the toe of his boot. “Ain’t got much call for somethin’ like this in Javelina.”
The storekeeper’s eyes gleamed. “For you, Herr Renshaw, and for the new bride, I would offer an excellent bargain.” He pushed up his spectacles. “How is Mrs. McCarrick?”
“Fine,” Heath said through gritted teeth. He strode to the counter and removed a few coins from his money pouch. “You get any more of that jam in?”
“One jar.” Sonntag cocked his head. “No cradle today, Herr Renshaw?”
“I’ll think about it.” Except he wouldn’t be thinking about it at all, because he wouldn’t be making any more personal stops in Javelina if he could help it. Sonntag hadn’t had any ideas about helping Joey find work somewhere else, and Heath didn’t figure anything new would crop up in the next few days. He went out for his saddlebags, dropped them on the counter and left Sonntag to pack his purchases while he looked over the patch of wall the town used for announcements and the rare advertisement.
When he saw the poster, it was like looking in a cracked mirror. The face in the drawing was almost completely covered with a full black beard, mustache and long, unkempt hair. The eyes were the same, but the artist had the nose wrong. The scar across the wanted man’s neck was knotted and ugly. Heath Renier, accused of murder, rustling and armed robbery, had last been seen near Dallas four years ago.
“Quite a villain,” Sonntag said, coming up behind him. “I would not wish to meet him in a dark place.”
Heath let out his breath very slowly. “When did this come in?”
“From San Antonio, with my new goods yesterday. It is a great deal of money, nicht wahr? Ach, what I could do with such money!” Sonntag shrugged. “But men like that are not easily found. His appearance may be nothing like this picture after so many years.”
Heath returned to the counter and grabbed the saddlebags. “Maurice will
be along for more later.”
“Very well, Herr Renshaw.” Heath could feel Sonntag’s stare as he left the store, weighing him, wondering. He touched the neckerchief around his throat.
If Sonntag or anyone else had recognized Holden Renshaw as Heath Renier, he would have been arrested by now. But it was a bad sign that they were putting out posters this far south and west. It meant the law was still on his trail and getting closer.
The kid had to get well soon, though Heath would be safe a while longer if he was careful. Coming into Javelina all normal-like, after everything that had happened, probably even worked in his favor.
Just as he put Lucia up on the mule, he heard hoofbeats behind him, coming fast.
He turned around. Amy Blackwell’s bay mare pulled up hard, raising dust hip high.
“Holden Renshaw,” she said, her pretty face twisted with anger. “I hope they hang you for what you’ve done.”
Heath’s heart slammed a dozen times before he got it under control. He touched the brim of his hat.
“Afternoon, Miss Blackwell,” he said. “Reckon they have some hangin’ rope at Sonntag’s. You mind tellin’ me what I’ve done first?”
“You know perfectly well,” she said, tossing back the blond hair she always wore loose around her shoulders. “Sean came to us as soon as you ran him off.”
The tension went out of Heath’s body. He’d never doubted that that was where Sean would have headed first. He’d been in good with the Blackwells for some time, playing up his education at some fancy school back East and the highfalutin manners Jed had paid so much for. Sean had hankered after Amy, too.
Looked like he was getting her.
“Sean tell you why?” he asked. “Or did he just howl like a burnt coyote?”
Her gloved hands tightened on the reins as she shifted on her sidesaddle. “Must there be a reason when a gentleman is run off his own ranch by a jealous cowhand?”
Heath let her see the edges of his teeth. “It ain’t his ranch yet, Miss Blackwell. If he promised to sell you Dog Creek, he’s layin’ you a false scent.”
Bride of the Wolf Page 6
