by Unknown
"How?" Blair asked, confused. "This is still Indian land, and one still has to be granted permits to settle here."
"That's true, but when a man's crop has been destroyed, or his cattle have been rustled or driven off, then when midnight riders come charging into that man's yard in the middle of the night, threatening to burn him out or kill his family, he's suddenly inclined to lease his land for a small price."
Warren drew his lips in thoughtfully. "It seems logical except for one detail. If your suspicions are true, it sounds like one man is responsible —or maybe two who are in cahoots with each other. But assuming there is only one man, wouldn't it look peculiar when his name appears on all of the papers?"
"Yes, but his name will not appear on any papers. If you remember, there have been quite a few murders taking place. I haven't had a chance to do a thorough investigation, but I'll wager over half of those men who were murdered recently acquired a land permit. Then when that land is opened next week, in all likelihood, the same thing will happen there, too. The thing about it is, the big ranchers are being hit hard as well; it's difficult to be suspicious of anyone in particular, so I really don't have any suspects. It's one of those ‘hurry up and wait' type situations."
Blair touched Adam's hand, her eyes hooded from worry. "You mentioned midnight riders . . . and the other day you spoke so strongly against the vigilantes. If there has been a vigilante grouped formed, could they be the same?"
"In all likelihood, yes."
"And Coy was defending them," she muttered fearfully.
Warren uttered a curse under his breath. "Knowing Coy, he's in with them up to his neck!"
Blair was quick to defend him. "Coy isn't like that! He's hot-headed and impetuous, but he isn't mean, and he would never be a party to driving people from their land!"
"Hold on a minute, Blair. You misunderstood. What I meant, he's probably gotten involved with them thinking he is helping protect the small farmer and rancher. By the time he realizes what is really going on, there is no telling what will happen. God, I hope they don't turn on him when he starts to object!"
Adam's features darkened. "Someone needs to talk to him before he gets into serious trouble, and I don't necessarily mean trouble with the law. I don't want to scare either one of you, but if my suspicions are true and if he is involved with them ..."
Warren slammed his fist against the table. "By God, I'll make the young pup listen to reason!"
Blair knew how Warren would talk to him. He would yell and threaten, which would make Coy balk like a stubborn mule. "No, Warren, let me speak to him. You know I can make him listen when no one else can." She looked at Adam, a silent plea in her eyes. "I may need help convincing him, though. Will you tell him what you've told us?"
"I sure will, where is he?"
Warren spoke up, it was clearly evident he was concerned. "He's suppose to be at the line shack, but I doubt if he'll be back there before dusk."
"Where's this line shack located?"
"Out at the ranch. If you left now, you should get there about the same time he does."
Adam started to rise. "Then I guess I had better be on my way. You'll have to give me directions."
"Wait a minute," Blair stopped him. "I thought we were going to talk to him together?"
Remembering his and Coy's last conversation, Adam replied, "We would probably be more successful."
"Then why don't I accompany you to the line shack? I can either spend the night there, or he can ride home with me."
"Is that all right with you, Warren?" Adam asked, looking at him.
"It's fine with me. Blair, you can take my horse and I'll pick up the supplies and drive the buck-board on home. And just remember ... I wish you the best of luck."
Chapter 18
Angry dark clouds, purple with greenish hues, rolled and boiled ominously over the nearby Arbuckle Mountains. Finger ling clouds had branched from the main body, spreading toward the valley as though they were hungry tentacles. Jagged streaks of lightning violently ripped the horizon to shreds, then vanished, and there were distant rolls of thunder, muttering among the dark ravines and canyons like the echoes of faraway battles. The wind rose with imperceptible steadiness, whipping the tree tops with ease, as though they were small saplings bending before a gentle wind.
Adam urged his horse alongside Blair's and yelled over the howl of the wind, "If Warren has a slicker in his saddlebags, you'd better put it on." He pointed toward a heavy metallic gray wall of rain rapidly advancing toward them. Instead of waiting for her to look for it, he leaned over and unbuckled the saddle bag. Not seeing a slicker, he handed his to her. "It's going to be dark soon; how much further is it to the line shack?"
Fastening the slicker around her neck, Blair turned in her saddle and looked frantically about. With darkness approaching and the driving torrential rain, it was difficult to see. She knew the storm could easily spawn tornadoes and they were in desperate need of shelter. The line shack was a sturdy log cabin, they would be safe there ... if she could find it.
Squinting her eyes against the stinging wind, she shouted, "I-I’m not sure. I think we have come far enough, but nothing looks familiar. We might have taken the wrong turn somewhere, or maybe even the wrong trail! "
Adam yelled words of encouragement, "take a moment to look at the landmarks, collect your bearings then maybe you will recognize something—a tree, a rock outcropping . . . anything. Just remember the trees and brush have had four years to grow, everything will seem different to you."
Following his advice, Blair shielded her eyes against the rain. Then she pointed toward a decayed tree that had fallen across the trail. She yelled excitedly, "There, that tree used to be standing!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I am positive. That means the line shack is to the left and less than a mile away!"
The line shack lay cupped in a hand of hills with a cedar brake and towering oaks around it. It was built from logs that had been laid in place with the bark on, and now, years later, the bark was peeling off, but it looked strong and sturdy. The door had been wired shut and wooden shutters were still nailed in place over the tiny windows. A pole corral with a lean-to stable was close by, but it held no horses and there was no smoke coming from the cabin's chimney.
She turned anxiously to Adam. "Coy isn't here! What if he is caught out in this storm?"
He glanced at the cabin and shook his head. "The place is deserted. From the looks of it, I doubt if anybody has been here all year. You go on inside and if there is some wood, get a fire going. I’ll take care of the horses and join you as soon as I can."
The rain had become so fierce the line shack was barely distinguishable as Blair ducked her head and hurried for the shelter. Icy cold rainwater dripped from the broad brim of her hat and ran down inside her collar as she fumbled with the wire.
Cursing in a far from ladylike manner at whoever had been stupid enough to wire the door shut in that fashion when the wooden latch would have kept any raccoons, squirrels, or other varmints out, she finally got the door open and hurried inside.
Blair found her way to the table, then deftly searched the tabletop for the tin of matches that was always kept beside the lamp. She struck one and lit the kerosene lamp and from the rosy glow of the light, she saw nothing had changed, the cabin was as it always had been.
Beside the door was a rickety wash stand with three towels hanging on- the pegs above it. The table, covered with a blue and white checked oilcloth, was in the center of the room, two benches and one chair lined three sides. Two small blanket-covered cots, side by side with only a narrow walkway between them, were at one end of the cabin while a native stone fireplace ran the entire length of the opposite wall. Cast-iron pots and skillets hung on pegs lining the fireplace. A kitchen safe, a cook table, and several rows of rough-planked shelves completed the sparse furnishings.
One quick glance
told her whoever had been here last had left the cabin stocked with supplies, and the woodbox filled with firewood. That was not too surprising or unusual; line shacks were often used by ranch hands during round-ups, and the standard practice was to keep them well-stocked.
What bothered Blair was that Coy was supposed to have been here for the past several days, and other than the supplies, there was no sign of him or of anyone having been at the cabin for months. From the amount of supplies that had been laid in, though, there was enough to last one man for a month or more.
Dehberately keeping busy so she would not have time to think about Coy, Blair placed tinder in the fireplace, then filled it with logs. The fire started—a few pitiful flames—but even though she pried and banged on the damper handle, she was unable to get the damper open and the room soon filled with smoke. Coughing, she hurried to the door to open it just as Adam had drawn back his foot to kick it. He could not knock, since saddles were across both his shoulders.
"I decided to bring these inside so that the horses would have more room under the shed.'' Squinting his eyes, he lowered them to the floor. "Looks like there is trouble with the fireplace. Can't get the fire to burn?"
She gestured apologetically toward the few smoky flames. "I couldn't get the damper open. It is stuck fast."
Adam strode quickly to the fireplace and tugged on the handle but he could not get it to budge either. "Something must be lodged up there."
He shoved aside the few logs that were attempting to burn and reached up into the chimney, groped about for a minute then tossed a small metal box on the floor. "I think this is the culprit." When he tugged on the handle again, the damper opened immediately.
After Adam cross-stacked the logs for better ventilation, orange and yellow flames soon began to spread their gentle warmth. Rubbing his hands together, he held them out to the fire. "There, that's much better, or it would be if we had some hot coffee." His gray eyes flicked with surprise when he noticed so many supplies stacked on the shelves and cooktable. "Well, I suppose that can be remedied shortly, can't it? I brought the canteens in with the saddles."
A heaviness centered in Blair's chest, her mouth felt like old paper, dry and dusty. "Will you please say it!" she said in a choked voice, holding out the metal box. She had opened it and to her dismay, it was filled with money. There had to be hundreds of dollars in it. "Please just say it and get it over with!"
His gaze flicked to the box, then to her. "What do you want me to say?"
She held the box out to him and spoke in a heated rush,"This box is filled with money. Coy is supposed to be here but he isn't! There are enough supplies here to last a month or more. It's obvious someone plans to use this cabin as a hide-out, and, in all likelihood, it's Coy!" She clenched her jaw to kill the sob in her throat. Then after regaining a tiny amount of self-control, she asked pitifully, "Oh, Adam, what has Coy gotten himself into?"
Adam took a step forward and seized her shoulders. "Don't go chasing devils if they're not there, Blair. We don't know that Coy is mixed up in anything. We have no way of knowing who cached the box of money. And while I agree the cabin's well stocked with supplies, it is my understanding that line shacks are usually kept well stocked during round-ups. There could also be a very simple explanation as to why Coy is not here. Maybe he and Warren had an argument and he went somewhere to cool off. There are all sorts of logical possibilities without thinking the worst."
She breathed an audible sigh of relief. Adam's explanation made it all sound so plausible. "Of course . . . you're right. My imagination ran wild there for a moment. It's just . . . Coy has been so unreliable here lately. His behavior is so bizarre . . . his temper so ... unreasonable at times. He acts nothing like the brother I knew so well. We were so close, Adam, so . . . close," her voice trailed off sadly.
"Sweetheart, people change . . . that's all a part of life. At times, people will do something they would never ordinarily do. Then, something happens and they no longer have any control . . . They might as well try to stop breathing . . ."
Suddenly, his lips fell silent and his mind went blank. Blair was gazing up at him. Her eyes were translucent. Her lips were slightly parted. He stared back captivated by the mellow expression on her face. Even though he had clearly meant something else, he knew what she was thinking . . . what she was remembering.
They were both remembering those moments of fierce possession when they had been one. The memory of that day refused to be relegated to the dark corners of their minds.
Adam slowly let his hands slide from her shoulders. He wondered if Blair had any idea how badly he wanted to take her in his arms, to kiss her until she trembled with desire, to stroke her creamy flesh until she begged for him to take her.
The silence stretched out endlessly.
Slowly wetting her lips with her tongue, Blair swallowed hard. "You are drenched to the skin. You had better get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death." Oh damnation! Just the thought of him removing his clothes made her go weak inside.
"I don't have any spare clothes with me. I'll just . . . stand here and dry off by the fire." He shivered even though he had been determined not to.
She said in a voice that seemed to come from a long way off, "Now that's nonsense and you know it. You can always wrap a blanket around you." Her gaze immediately fiew to the two narrow cots on the far side of the wall. "The way it's raining ... it looks like we will be stranded here for the night." She cleared the sudden lump that had formed in her throat. "We might as well make ourselves comfortable, so I will put on some coffee."
"Yes, coffee. A hot cup sure would taste good." He made no offer to remove his wet clothing.
Blair jumped as lightning struck a tree nearby.
"Are you scared of storms?" Adam asked.
She shook her head. "No, not really. The lightning just startled me."
He walked over to the door, opened it a crack and looked outside. The wind gusted and he had to catch the door to prevent it from blowing open. "The storm is getting a lot worse, but if we are lucky it will blow itself out in a few hours." A strange expression flitted across his face. "Though lately, my luck hasn’t been too . . ."
"Are you hungry? I’m not as good a cook as Tillie, but she did teach me how to find my way around a kitchen."
Nothing had changed as far as Adam was concerned. Their personal relationship was too precarious to take any unnecessary chances. He feigned a yawn. "No, I am more sleepy than hungry. But rainy weather does this to me." His stomach picked that inopportune time to grumble loudly.
He glanced at Blair and grinned sheepishly. Then he shrugged, raking his hand through his wet hair. "Hell, who am trying to fool, you or me? I’m not doing a very good job of it. Look, Blair, I don't intend to feel like a twelve-year-old schoolboy all night long, who has just kissed his first girl, so we might as well clear the air between us."
"Adam, please . . ."
"We have to talk about it," he stubbornly insisted. "We won't last the night with something like this festering between us. The other day when we made love—well, I'm older than you, more experienced, I should have had more self-control."
"You don't owe me an apology," she murmured softly, her green eyes wide and shining from the memory of what they had shared.
Adam hurried on as though he had not heard her. "We shouldn't be here alone . . . together like this, because once something like that occurs between a man and a woman, it is likely to happen again." He dragged his eyes to her face and targeted in on her mouth. He had defiled it, scoured it, and raped it with his tongue, and God help him, all he could think about was doing it again. He wanted a second taste of the sweetness that lay just beyond her lips.
The memories tormented him. They stayed in his mind to harass him like waving a red flag at a bull. He knew just how silky her hair felt when it curled around his fingers. He knew the creamy textures of her skin and the taste
of her lips. Against his will his eyes lowered to her breasts. Had he really tasted them, stroked them, reshaped them, or was it merely a dream he never wanted to forget?
And he felt guilty all over again.
He whispered hoarsely, "I’m just a man, Blair . . . and you are a very beautiful, desirable woman ... but I’m warning you, stay the hell away from me tonight ... or I won't be accountable for my actions."
She shot him a scalding look. "Stay the hell away from you . . . ! You make me sound as though I am about to attack you! You make me sound as though I am scheming of a way to get you into my bed!" She added indignantly, "If that is what you think of me, then . . ."
He caught her by the hand then released it quickly as though the heat burned him. "Sweetheart, it isn't you I’m afraid of. It's me I don't trust!" His mouth was tight and grim. "You are too naive, too trusting. You have no idea the effect you have on a man," his rich voice simmered with barely checked passion.
She dropped her eyes before Adam's steady gaze and in an attempt to prevent him from seeing how badly her hands were trembling, she wiped them on her skirt. Turning away from him, Blair walked with purpose toward the fireplace to make a pot of coffee as he had suggested. Perhaps she should cook supper, too. Stranded in the cabin as they were with such titillating sensuality sizzling between them, they would have to have something to occupy their minds or they would . . . they would . . . Some dormant portion of her brain finished her line of thought. Or they would make love.
What they did that day at the fails was wrong, terribly wrong. The thoughts going through her mind now were wrong. But no matter how badly she wanted to block the memory of their lovemaking from her mind, the fever in her blood would not let her. Ever since they had made love, she felt as though she had been taken apart then put back together. She looked like the same person, but she wasn't. Nothing about her would ever be the same again, and she didn't want it to be. Despite her misery at realizing Adam did not love her, that was the first day of her life that she had really felt alive! It wasn't just the sex they had shared —men and women had been having sex since the beginning of time—it was their joining, their oneness, the sensation of finally being complete, of fulfilling her purpose. She wanted to be his help-mate, to stand by his side through the bad times and through the good, to love him, to honor him, to have his babies, and to share his life.
