She had almost said “married.” Almost admitted that she had deceived Holden and everyone at the ranch because she’d been afraid of losing her place here in Jedediah’s absence.
Surely Holden couldn’t have guessed what she had been about to say, but what she had admitted was bad enough. His lids were half-closed, his nostrils flared, his mouth drawn in an unbending line.
“I would ask,” she said steadily, “that you do me the courtesy of allowing me to explain…to speak to Jedediah on this matter before you tell him. I believe he will want the baby. Unless you have some better plan for him that you have not shared with me?”
Rubbing his hand across his mouth, Heath became very interested in a buckle on his saddle. “Ain’t my business to tell Jed about it.”
Her frustration reached the boiling point. Where did the truth lie? In Holden’s former protectiveness or his present indifference? Did he still consider her some kind of enemy, or had their time together in the stable marked a change she wasn’t even sure she wanted?
What did he want of her?
“I have never seen you hesitate to tell anyone anything,” she snapped.
He turned back to her, leaned against his horse and folded his arms across his chest. “Oh, I hesitate,” he said. “If I didn’t, I might ask you some questions you don’t want asked.”
The feeling drained from her legs. “Please do not allow any inconvenient scruples to interfere with your curiosity.”
His eyes were every bit as hard and cold as they had been in the nightmare as he asked, “Did you ever love Jedediah McCarrick?”
Chapter Ten
CONCEALING THE DETAILS of her past and her motives had become almost second nature to Rachel over the years. She had expected a much more dangerous question. Even so, she could find no answer until several raw, painful moments had passed.
She wanted to tell Holden it was none of his business, just as he had told her such matters as the running of the ranch and the presence of outlaws were none of hers. She found herself stammering instead, speaking aloud what she had never decided in her own heart.
“Of…of course I love him,” she said. “I would never have come here if I did not!”
His expression didn’t change. “You’d be sorry if he hadn’t married you?”
Her arms had gone numb. “He is a kind, good man. I want to make him happy.”
“You sure don’t act like it.”
The ground steadfastly refused to swallow her. “If you…if you think because I didn’t tell him about my inability to…to bear children—”
“I was thinkin’ more about what you want, Rachel.” His gaze raked over her, up and down and sideways. “What you expected when you came here.”
Until their conversation in the stable, Rachel had never believed him very interested in her reasons for marrying Jed or coming to Texas. But he had guessed she was running from something, as she had guessed the same of him. Had all his earlier questions been tests of her devotion to her husband, tests that she had failed by admitting her barrenness and suggesting she would leave Jed for the baby? Was Holden truly loyal to Jedediah after all? Did he feel obligated to discover every one of her motives now that she had made yet another stupid confession?
“The West is a land of opportunity,” she said, as if she were a schoolteacher reading from a primer. “I saw this opportunity and sought companionship in order to build a new life. When I met Jed—”
“In Ohio, where you was married.”
“Yes. I knew at once that Jed would be…that we could be happy.”
“And were you happy, Rachel, when he took you into his bed?”
He was speaking almost too softly for her to hear, and there was no one about, but Rachel felt as if the entire world must be listening. Sensation almost like pain filled the numb places in her body.
“I am not surprised,” she said, shaking, “that you have no conception of the kind of companionship a good marriage entails.”
“I know about male and female,” he said, casually crossing his booted feet. “Was there someone before Jed, Rachel?”
She could hardly believe what he was saying. “You…you have—”
“Reckon you have some experience of the kind a man would appreciate. You must have satisfied Jed well enough. But was the old man enough for you? Maybe you didn’t want to tell him about not havin’ kids because you hoped you’d never have to share his bed again?”
Air suddenly seemed in very short supply, not nearly enough to feed the rage she ought to feel. “I would never…I would never deny my husband his due.”
“And it don’t matter if he satisfies your needs, since you ain’t got no call askin’ to be pleased? You think it’s better not to hanker after somethin’ part of you is afraid of, ’specially if Jed don’t much care?”
The fight went out of Rachel all at once. “Why?” she asked, her voice breaking. “Why do you take such pleasure in tormenting me? You know nothing of what Jed and I share. Why is it so impossible for you to believe that he…that he and I…”
He straightened and closed the space between them to three feet. Two. “It’s hard for me to believe,” he said, “because you want someone else.”
She closed her eyes. Denials would win her nothing. He knew.
“It is part of being human,” she said. “Just as it is to know whether wanting something is right or wrong.”
“And is it so wrong, Rachel?” He had come so close that she could feel his breath stirring the loose tendrils of hair that had escaped from beneath her bonnet.
Wrong. Oh, yes, so very, very wrong. But she wanted him to cup her face in his big hand, touch her lips with his, meet his tongue with hers in a feral dance of desire.
Apache snorted as she stumbled backward. Holden reached for her, and she fended him off, arms flailing.
“Don’t touch me!” she snapped.
He leaned back and stretched, popping bones. “Never planned to, Mrs. McCarrick.”
He didn’t try to pursue her as she ran back to the house. Once she was inside, she pressed her hands to her mouth and struggled to fill her empty lungs.
“Señora McCarrick?”
She turned to face Lucia’s gentle concern with a frantic smile. The baby was in the Mexican woman’s arms, and Rachel rushed to take him. She held the baby close and bounced him, humming an aimless tune.
“You have quarreled with Señor Renshaw?” Lucia asked.
Rachel kept her voice low for the baby’s sake, but she knew Lucia would not be deceived. “Men…men can be very difficult, can they not?”
Lucia nodded solemnly. “Sí, es verdad. Is there anything I can do?”
“No, thank you. How is Joey?”
“He has gone out again, though I told him you would not wish it.”
Of course he had, since Rachel had not been there to stop him. “You should lie down and rest, Lucia,” she said.
Lucia gazed at her for a few moments longer and then left. Rachel carried the baby to the table and sank into a chair.
IT WAS ALL out now. The wolf could not be put back in the trap. She could never again hope to make Holden believe that she was indifferent to him, if she had ever really possessed that hope at all. He might indeed have been testing her fidelity and commitment to Jedediah, proving to himself that she was unworthy, but there had been so much more beneath his words. He might never seriously consider approaching his boss’s wife, but his body had betrayed him. He might think he was in control, but he was deceiving himself as much as she had been.
She had not loved Jed. She had never met him, in Ohio or elsewhere; she had not had the chance. But she had hoped to learn to love him. Now she could hardly imagine a life of contentment with him and the baby. If he accepted the boy. If he accepted her.
The baby gave a soft little cry, and she tried to sing as the tears rolled over her cheeks. If she had anywhere to go, money of her own, she would never be parted from this baby.
But she had neit
her of those things.
“You deserve so much,” she murmured to the child, “and I have so little. But I can give you one gift.” She brushed her check against his, and he grabbed at a stray lock of her hair. “Would you mind if I gave you my father’s name? He was a good man, even though I hardly knew him.”
The baby grinned and pulled on her hair with that focused strength that always astonished her. She gave a watery laugh.
“Very well. I shall call you Gordon. Gordie. And if Mr. Renshaw doesn’t like it, he can go hang.”
“YOU’RE SURE ABOUT this?” Sean asked.
Charlie nodded. “Somethin’s different between ’em, Mr. McCarrick. They still argue and fuss, but it ain’t the same. They stare at each other all the time. They’re like panthers bitin’ and scratchin’ just afore they’re fixin’ to—” He grinned, showing his yellow teeth, letting insinuation finish the sentence for him.
Sean leaned back in his chair and glanced toward the door of his cabin. This was a development he had not expected. It had been scarcely more than two days since the incident at Dog Creek. Just as he had anticipated, no one at Blackwater seemed to suspect what had happened. The Blackwells were certainly ignorant of it, and had listened with horror to his account of the wolf attack. The hands had kept quiet…and so, it appeared, had Renshaw.
But this new twist…
“Last time, you told me they didn’t like each other,” he said, pinning Charlie with a hard stare. “Why should I believe that your observations are accurate now?”
“I can only say what I’ve seen, Mr. McCarrick.”
“And how do you account for this change?”
“If you don’t mind me sayin’, Mr. McCarrick, when Renshaw came back after what happened at the Creek…”
“Go on,” Sean said impatiently.
“Well, Mrs. McCarrick, she fixed the boy right up, and Renshaw, too. Woman took the bullet out of his shoulder. Mebbe that had somethin’ to do with it.”
Sean steepled his fingers under his chin. He could well imagine the intimacy that could occur during the treatment of a gunshot wound. Renshaw was certainly an animal in that regard, as in every other, and he wouldn’t hesitate to betray Jed if he thought he could get away with it. But he had every reason to resent Rachel, and given her distinct lack of alluring physical charms and her frigid demeanor…
You fool. If Renshaw was party to some alteration in their relationship, it would not be based upon Miss Lyndon’s physical attractions or his uncontrollable lust.
Animal cunning. The foreman must have discovered some advantage in softening his attitude and behavior toward her.
But why? What had changed? Rachel must have come to believe that Renshaw was not behind the bribery attempt in Javelina, or surely she would never soften toward him. Had she confronted him about the incident, in spite of Sean’s warnings? Had she considered who else might have wanted her gone?
He shook off the thought and returned to the intriguing subject at hand. “Have you seen any indication that this attraction between them has gone beyond looks and conversation?” he asked Charlie.
“Don’t reckon they’ve admitted what’s goin’ on yet. And Mrs. McCarrick…” don’t think she’s ready to put horns on Mr. McCarrick.”
Sean grimaced. She might be a fraud and a thief, but she would have to maintain the fiction of being Jed’s pure and loyal wife, even if she were the kind who would whore herself out to any man who wanted her. Still, the very fact that she couldn’t have been wanted by many men in her life would make her twice as vulnerable when an overbearing, brutishly handsome man like Renshaw pursued her.
“Did Renshaw tell her the circumstances behind his and the boy’s injuries?” Sean asked.
“He told the other hands something about outlaws. Reckon he said the same to her.”
One lingering concern dispensed with, though Sean was hardly surprised. Renshaw had behaved exactly as he’d predicted.
In every way but one.
“What about the baby?”
“Mrs. McCarrick’s still mighty attached to it, and I’d say Renshaw is, too.”
Sean’s fist tightened, and his bandaged arm—stitched up by Colonel Blackwell himself—protested his slight movement, and he had to bite his lip against the pain. “I seem to have underestimated you, Charlie,” he rasped. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a romantic.”
“Huh.” Charlie took rolling papers and a small pouch of tobacco out of his pocket, and began rolling a cigarette. “Didn’t say nothin’ about no romance.”
Of course he hadn’t. And unless the woman and Renshaw were blatant about their attraction, it would be difficult for Sean to take advantage of it.
That there was an advantage to be taken he had not the slightest doubt. But until he understood Renshaw’s motivations, he would have to continue to be cautious.
Sean watched Charlie puff on his cigarette and thought of his own, much finer ones, left back at the house when he’d finished luncheon with the Blackwells. He couldn’t roll one for himself without inviting a great deal of pain, and he wasn’t prepared to ask Charlie to make one for him.
In the two days since his injury, he’d had little choice but to spend most of his time close to the house. He’d been out on the range today, collecting the beeves that had been left at large after the humiliating incident by the creek, but he’d been careful to make sure he was never alone.
Renshaw hadn’t come after him, but Sean did not for a moment suspect that the foreman had given up on his notion of punishment, whatever form that might take. Charlie had said that Renshaw’s injury hadn’t seemed to trouble him after the first day, but even the foreman must have enough to keep him busy with the boy off his feet and only Charlie and the fat Frenchman to work the ranch.
No, Renshaw hadn’t come. But the lobo had. The big black brute had showed up on the other side of the creek just after the beeves had been gathered…bold as brass, pacing up and down the bank in broad daylight, as if daring Sean to come after him. Sean had been very careful to show no emotion around the hands, and he had not accepted the beast’s invitation.
But it wasn’t over. Tonight he would be going back to the spot with men who could be trusted to back him up and see to it he got the killing shot.
Sean grinned. That pleasure would go a long way toward easing the pain of his wounds. As for Renshaw’s possible dalliance with Mrs. McCarrick…
A man of character took what was handed to him and made the most of it. As he was about to do now.
“You’ve done well, Charlie,” he said. He withdrew his money bag and laid several coins on the table beside his chair. “Continue as you have been. Report any further changes to me.”
“Yessir.” Charlie got up, pocketed the money and headed for the door.
“Charlie.”
The older man stopped. “Somethin’ else, Mr. McCarrick?”
“I believe that Gus is in the bunkhouse. Send him to me.”
“Yessir.”
Once Charlie was gone, Sean gave in to the pain and slumped in his chair. For a few moments he was unaware of anything but the fire in his arm and the rage it evoked. He forced his thoughts into focus again, knowing he needed to be clearheaded when Gus arrived.
Gus edged his way into the cabin, his hat in his hands. He’d been nervous as a cat ever since he’d shot Renshaw, and Sean had let him stay near the house to show that he had the hand’s best interests at heart.
Now he was going to remind Gus once again that the obligation went both ways.
“I have a little job for you and El,” Sean said. “You’ll be riding for Heywood. Tonight. You should reach it by sundown tomorrow.”
“H-Heywood?” Gus stammered.
“You should be familiar with the place, Gus. You broke into the lawyer’s office there. Now you’re going to burn it down.”
SEAN MCCARRICK HAD been lucky again.
Heath kept Apache to a walk, in no hurry to return to the house. When he’d lef
t, he’d been hoping against reason to find Sean somewhere along the creek, Change, then give Sean a good taste of his own medicine. The odds were against him; Sean was more likely to be sticking close to the house, nursing his wounds and hoping Heath wouldn’t make good on his promise.
The odds had been better than Heath had expected, though it hadn’t done him much good. Even though he’d found Sean with Gus and another hand along the same stretch where the whipping had happened, the coward had kept the creek and a safe distance between them. He’d been smart enough not to make a fatal mistake.
A bird sang in the mesquite bosquet beside the creek. Apache twitched his ears and bobbed his head, letting Heath know that he wanted a drink. Heath steered the gelding down to the water, dismounted and sat on the bank while Apache plunged his nose in the water.
Mistakes. Heath took off his hat, slammed it on the ground and turned his face into the evening breeze. Why did he keep making them? It had all gone wrong from the moment Rachel had come out to thank him for the damn cradle.
‘Course, he hadn’t actually had a plan other than to keep asking questions until Rachel said something that revealed what mistake she was “paying for.” But when she had started in about the boy’s name, he’d been thrown naked into a thick patch of dog cholla. He’d gotten mad for no reason—or maybe because she’d been the one to remind him his son needed a name—and made her defend herself just for caring about the kid. Then he’d started baiting her again, telling himself he was testing her, knowing all the time that he was really trying to hurt her.
That hadn’t worked out quite the way he’d meant it to. She’d been so quick to say she would choose the boy over Jed, giving the lie to her claim that she loved the man she’d supposedly met and married in Ohio. Heath had been torn between being mad on Jed’s behalf, admiring her and worrying over her attachment to the boy.
Then she’d confessed to being barren and lying to Jed about it, and talked about Jed accepting the boy. Heath hadn’t even known what he was doing when he’d started asking her about the kind of love she had for Jed. If they’d lain together. If he’d satisfied her.
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