Remember Me, Cowboy
Page 11
“You’re trying to pay me to leave town, Clyde. You’ll give me fifteen thousand dollars to leave Comfort. Now, the question I have to ask is what secret is worth fifteen thousand?”
Clyde mopped his brow again. “There’s no secret.” He looked longingly at his car. “There’s absolutely no secret. I was just trying to help, to be kind to Mary’s son.” He started across the porch and down the steps, moving fast in the heat. “I’m sorry you took this the wrong way, Slate. I really am. I was only trying to help you.” He opened the car door and sat heavily in the seat. In a moment he was gone.
CASSIDY GRABBED an armload of supplies from the back of the truck and headed toward the kitchen door with them. She was in such a hurry that a bag burst and cans of food rolled across the porch.
“Double damn,” she said as she nudged one away with her foot and tried to manage the bags and get the door open.
“Cassidy!” Nita pushed the door open and took one of the bags from her arms. “Lindsey has been looking for you. Mr. Barlow from the bank came by. Lucky is looking for you, and Cole has called here four times. He sounded angry.”
Cassidy took a deep breath and decided that there was no response that would cover all of that information. “Where’s Lindsey?”
“She’s in the kitchen. We’ve been baking cookies.”
Cassidy finally noticed that the wonderful smell wafting through the house came from the kitchen. “What kind?” she asked.
“Your favorite. Chocolate chip.”
“Now, that’s the first truly wonderful thing I’ve heard today,” Cassidy said with a smile. “Has Slate been up to the house?”
Nita’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Everyone but him. He did talk with Mr. Barlow, but he didn’t come in.”
“He didn’t leave a message?” Cassidy tried to keep the question casual, but Nita’s knowing look stopped her in her tracks. “He has Joker. I thought maybe he’d left some word of the horse’s progress.”
“I’m sure the horse was at the top of your concerns where Slate Walker is involved.”
Nita’s arch tone made Cassidy laugh. Who was she kidding? Her thoughts about Slate were not at all employeremployee, and she was insane if she thought she could hide her feelings from a ranch full of people who watched every move she made. She rushed into the kitchen and gave Lindsey a kiss on the cheek. “Hello, sweetheart. Chocolate chip, yum.” She took the cookie dough Lindsey offered on her finger. “Delicious. Okay, Nita, did Slate leave a message about anything?”
Nita shook her head.
“What did Barlow want?” she asked, stealing another swipe of cookie dough and making her daughter laugh.
“I don’t know,” Nita answered. “I should have listened at the window. All I could see was Mr. Walker’s face, and he didn’t look very happy.”
Concern stopped Cassidy as she was putting the groceries away. “Where is Slate?”
“He went back to the wild horses.”
All the way back from the prison, Cassidy had thought about what Johnny Vance told her. Her thoughts circled back to the sunken tractor. There were several ponds on the Three Sisters. If Slate and Rusty had taken the gun from Slate’s father, then it made sense they were on the Three Sisters Ranch when the gun was thrown into the water.
It shouldn’t be that hard to find out if a tractor had ever been lost in one of the ponds. Even if Slate didn’t remember, there were some older residents in the Comfort area who would surely have a recollection of such a tale. The loss of a tractor would have been big talk for months.
She had to see Slate. They could hire divers to search for the gun. If it was there, it would vindicate Slate—and prove that someone who had an intimate knowledge of his background had set him up by substituting a replica of Slate’s father’s gun at the scene of the crime.
That was the ugly side of Slate’s innocence. Someone else had to be guilty. And chances were it was someone Slate had trusted.
She went over the testimony that had sent Slate to prison. Amanda and Dray Tyree had been the witnesses in the bank. Their testimony and the gun had given the prosecution a tight case.
Clyde Barlow had been in the bank, but he’d seen nothing. His testimony had neither helped nor hurt Slate. But the bank had handled the sale of the Three Sisters Ranch when Mary died. And there had been gossip, which Cassidy had refused to believe, that Clyde Barlow had skimmed money off the top of the deal.
Now the bank president had appeared at the Double O on personal business with Slate. It didn’t seem right.
Cassidy helped Lindsey take the first three batches of cookies from the oven and then signaled Nita that she was going up to the wild horses.
“I want to take Slate some dinner, and some flashlights and things I got in town,” she said, whispering so that Lindsey would not hear her. Her pale skin flushed slightly. “I may be late getting back.”
Nita gave her a knowing look. “Be back before breakfast. I don’t want your daughter to see you coming in with the rooster.” She smiled, but her eyes were tinged with sadness. “Be careful, Cassidy. This man may not be the man you knew five years ago. People change.”
Of all the warnings, Nita’s struck Cassidy where she lived. The middle-aged woman had been with her since Lindsey’s birth, and she was like a mother to Cassidy.
“Do you think I’m making a mistake?” Cassidy asked.
Nita hesitated. “I can’t answer that. No one can know that but you, and perhaps you won’t know it until it’s too late.” She lightly grasped Cassidy’s shoulders. “What I do know is that five years have passed since he went to prison. In that time I’ve not seen your face flush with such anticipation or your eyes so alive with desire. The biggest mistake may be not taking the risk.”
Cassidy bent and kissed Nita’s cheek. “Thank you,” she said, “for reminding me what I’ve always believed in.”
“Hurry,” Nita said. “Night is falling and I want to know that you’re not driving around this ranch in the dark.”
“Lindsey—”
“Will be fine. She doesn’t understand what’s going on, but there’s something about Slate that fascinates her. In a strange sort of way, she wants you to be with him.”
Cassidy felt her heart pounding. “Does she know?”
Nita shook her head slowly. “Not as a fact, but in her heart I believe she does. And whatever anyone else tells you, Cassidy, the truth is always the best thing for a child.”
Cassidy closed her eyes for a moment, visualizing Slate and Lindsey together. The image warmed her, yet it also terrified her. “I’m not sure I agree with you there, Nita, but we’ll see what happens.”
SLATE CHECKED the coffeepot, leaning into the small campfire to smell the aroma. He’d forgotten how wonderful it was to be free. A small thing like a starry night, a pot of coffee on a fire and the sounds of horses nearby were so incredibly wonderful.
During the years he’d been in prison, working with the inmate rodeo was the only thing that had kept him sane. He knew in the very core of his being that whatever else happened in his life, he would never go behind bars again.
He heard the sound of the truck motor long before he saw the headlights bumping over a rise, and he wondered if it was trouble or pleasure.
That one word was the sum total of Cassidy. Pleasure. He delighted in looking at her. Touching her was as close to heaven as he’d ever been.
But what would leaving her be like?
That question brought him down to earth fast.
Clyde Barlow had insulted him, and angered him. But after several hours of sitting alone, Slate had to admit that perhaps Clyde was in the right and he was in the wrong. The entire town loved Cassidy. He could see that plain as day.
And everyone had tried to get him to leave her alone. Maybe they were all right.
Yet she’d been willing to go to bed with him.
He watched the headlights draw closer, and he knew it was Cassidy. Pleasure and trouble. He would not be able to r
esist her if she showed the first sign that she wanted him.
Even if it was only for a night.
He heard the truck door slam and the long steps she took as she came toward him. In the moonlight, she was a slender figure, almost a shadow. As she drew near, he saw the anticipation in her eyes, the smile on her lips.
He was the luckiest man alive. He stood and walked toward her. Her pace increased, and he walked faster, until they were running toward each other. He caught her in his arms, and the most incredible feeling of peace and contentment, mingled with sharp desire, washed over him.
“Slate,” she said softly.
“Cass,” he answered, burying his face in her silken hair. “My God, Cass.”
Against his closed eyelids, he saw another scene. It was summer, and Cassidy wore a red-checked sleeveless blouse tucked neatly into shorts. She was in the creek, knee deep, splashing water at him.
“Maybe I won’t marry you,” she had teased when he splashed back, soaking her blouse so that it clung to her body. He felt the hot surge of desire, the longing that was so much more intense than he’d ever thought possible.
He had caught her in his arms and held her tightly. “You’ll marry me,” he said, lowering them both into the cold water. He felt her gasp, and then he kissed her.
“Slate?” Cassidy asked.
Against the night sky of stars, she was staring at him with slight worry.
“Are you okay?”
He took a sudden breath. “I remembered something.”
“What?” The line of worry increased.
“We were going to be married, weren’t we? In the summer.”
Cassidy pressed her lips together. “Yes,” she answered. “We were.”
Her eyes were like spangled blue crystals. “What happened?” he pressed.
Cassidy held his gaze and spoke in a voice so low and soft he had to bend to hear her. “You were arrested for the bank robbery and went to prison.”
“That’s why you kept trying to visit me. Even when I was at Huntsville.”
Cassidy seemed to struggle for breath, but she answered, gaze unflinching, “That’s right.”
“And after a while, you quit coming.”
“There didn’t seem to be a point.”
For the first time, her gaze broke away. Slate wondered how badly he’d hurt her. Yet she was with him again. She was willing to give him a second chance. If he could only give himself that luxury.
He smiled a tiny smile. “You’re the first memory I’ve had. The first real taste of the past.” He knew his voice was shaky. “I think if I’d been in prison and had to think about you I would have gone insane.” He touched her face lightly. “I felt such intense love for you. Such powerful love. Was it really like that?”
Cassidy blinked. “It was, for both of us.”
There was a question Slate wanted to ask. He wanted to know if she thought it could ever be that way again. But he couldn’t ask it. Not until he knew the truth about the bank robbery. Until then, he would not play fast and loose with Cassidy’s heart. He’d already hurt her once. He wasn’t going to do it again.
“I think you should go home,” he said softly, his fingers still caressing her cheek.
“I don’t want to go home,” Cassidy answered.
Slate kissed her forehead. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. Clyde Barlow offered me fifteen thousand dollars to leave town today.” He saw the surprise in her eyes.
“You didn’t take it.” It was a statement.
“I didn’t. But I have to ask myself why everyone except you thinks I should leave. Maybe it would be the best thing for you, and in the long run, for me.”
“Without ever learning the truth about the bank robbery?”
He saw something in her eyes, something akin to teasing, but not quite that. “Most folks think the truth came out at the trial.”
Cassidy shifted her hands to his shoulders. Her fingers pressed into the muscles that defined his arms. “Think about this, Slate. Think about you and Rusty Jones stealing your father’s special pistol and going out to shoot cans. Think about throwing the cans into the water—a pond or cattle tank or something. Think about the cans bobbing and the two of you shooting at them and laughing. But your father comes up, and he’s angry. The two of you panic, and Rusty throws the gun into the water.”
He felt her intense gaze on him. Everything she said seemed familiar. It was as if he’d seen the movie or read the book but couldn’t remember what happened next until she told him.
“Feel it, Slate. Close your eyes and feel it. Watch his arm as the gun arcs high, spinning in the sunlight over and over before it splashes into the water. See it. Falling through the water, falling deeper, falling to land beside—”
“The old tractor.” Slate opened his eyes with a smile.
“You remember,” Cassidy said, not daring to believe it was really true.
“I remember,” he answered, leaning down to kiss her. He wanted to consume her, to inhale her so that they became one. When he drew back and took a breath, he whispered in her ear. “I remember, Cass.”
Chapter Eight
Cassidy pulled the quilt up around her neck and settled on Slate’s arm to gaze up at the stars. Beneath the soft cotton of the quilt Nita had stitched, she and Slate were naked. She rested her hand on his chest and felt the steady rise and fall that told her he had, at last, surrendered to sleep.
Although Slate’s breathing was soothing and more comforting than any sound she’d heard in a long while, Cassidy could not sleep. Their lovemaking had stirred too many emotions, and she veered from feeling utopian to panicked.
Whatever else Slate had forgotten when he struck his head in the bank, he remembered how to please her. The passion between them had been so intense that it had left them both spent and breathless, only to discover that the lightest touch, a whisper of breath, could reignite it.
There had been moments when she wondered if she were hallucinating—dreaming the past.
She shifted so that she could see his profile in the moonlight How many nights had she lain awake, thinking of him? Remembering. Knowing that he could not even miss her because he had no memory of what they’d shared. It had been hard. And she had been tempted to try to forget him.
Almost everyone she knew had encouraged her to do that—to forget. But she hadn’t been able to. Slate was woven into the fabric of her being. He was part of her. And Lindsey. No matter what advice everyone gave her.
Her thoughts drifted to the people she knew.
Cole Benson had made it clear that he was interested in her, and she’d honestly tried to care for him.
Cole was like Slate in many ways—they were both physical men with great intelligence and the energy to make their dreams reality. They were both handsome men, though different in appearance. Slate’s profile was strong, the jaw square and unflinching, the nose straight. It was the profile of a conqueror. It was only in his green eyes that the true spirit of the man could be found. He was, essentially, kind. And those green eyes were often lit with humor.
Cole did not have that compassion. That he could be generous was not in doubt. He’d often shown her great generosity. But there was a difference. Slate was kind to all living creatures, Cole only to the chosen.
Her hand drifted across Slate’s chest, and she felt the steady thud of his heart. He was the sort of man who laid a permanent foundation in life. From the first day she’d met him, when she’d gone to Three Sisters Ranch to try to get a job working for Mary Walker, she’d recognized Slate as a man who built. Brick by brick, lesson by lesson, he moved through life creating a world of integrity.
Slate didn’t know that—didn’t remember—but it would come back to him, and then she’d have to make a choice. He stirred beside her and she knew he was also awake.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, capturing her hand and holding it tightly.
“About the past,” she answered, truthfully.
“Then or now?” Her smile was touched with sadness as she thought of the nights of pleasure Slate could no longer remember.
“Either or both.”
“Then…” She thought about regret, honestly confronted it, because Slate deserved as much honesty as she could give him. “When you went to prison, I thought I’d die. It was as if someone had cut off a part of me.” She was glad for the warmth of him against her. Even though she knew how fleeting such security could be, he made her feel safe. “I thought I might grow to hate you, but I never did.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, stroking her hair.
“I knew you hadn’t tried to rob the bank. I never believed that you did, but I was helpless to stop what was happening to you. To us.” She heard the tremor in her voice. This was the time to tell him about Lindsey. It had only been the knowledge that the baby was growing inside her that had kept her from losing her mind. “I felt powerless.”
“I should have seen you in prison. I should have talked to you. But I didn’t know how I’d hurt you and I didn’t want to find out. I thought it would be better, for both of us.”
“I thought for a long time it would have been easier for me if you’d at least talked with me. But thinking about it, I can’t say that for sure. You didn’t know who I was. You didn’t remember me. That might have been the cruelest part of the whole thing.” Cassidy snuggled closer to him.
“Are you sorry for what we shared back then?”
Her smile this time was wide and sure. “Not at all.” She thought of their little daughter. “You gave me so much, Slate.” More than he could know. She wanted to tell him, but she couldn’t. What if he decided to move on? What would the knowledge do to him and Lindsey? She had to wait to see what his future would be.