Tangled Past

by Leah Braemel

  “You’d have to talk to Jackson about that.”

  There was something in her tone, a hardness bordering on bitterness. “What’s going on between you two, Sarah? Did you have a fight?”

  “It’s not important.”

  “The hell it ain’t.” He couldn’t stop the anger welling inside him. His fingers clamped around the arms of the chair. “Jackson loves you, Sarah. And I thought you loved him.”

  She waited until she’d pushed him over the threshold and onto the porch before she answered. Once she’d set the brakes, leaving him in the shade, she leaned against the railing. “He loves you too, Nate. And you love him.”

  He’d wondered when she’d get around to that particular subject, Martha having given him a heads up weeks before. The only thing he found surprising was how long it had taken for her to voice her concerns about Jackson’s and his unnatural relationship.

  You love him. She’d said it as a statement, not a question, her voice holding no sense of betrayal nor the hurt she might be feeling. He struggled to find an answer that would be honest. One that would not deny the truth of her words, or belittle the fears she must have.

  “You know he’s been faithful to you since you two have been married. You have no reason to question his fidelity.”

  “I know.” She twisted her fingers together. “I love him, Nate. So it’s difficult knowing he’ll never love me the same way.”

  If he’d been capable, he’d have gotten out of the damned chair and held her. Comforted her. Shook some sense into her. “Jackson loves you too, Sarah. He’s not a man of many words. He’s more a man who lets his actions speak for him. I can’t think of another woman he’s ever brought flowers.”

  That example caused the tips of her lips to quirk up for a second. Unfortunately, the smile quickly disappeared. “I never meant to come between you two that night.”

  “We both know that. Jackson doesn’t blame you any more than I do. You may have saved our lives in ways you will never imagine.”

  “Then why hasn’t he touched me since you had your accident?”

  He barely heard her whispered question, but her anguish was clear. “It’s calving season, Sarah. He’s plumb tuckered out.”

  “You’re right. I’m being selfish, aren’t I?” Her spine straight, she left him on the porch as she set to her chores. Everything she did was done with a quiet determination and dignity.

  While neither Jackson nor he had set out to find a wife, Jackson had lucked out. Sarah was the type of woman any man would be proud to have by his side.

  Ever since they’d had news that Missy Parker’s dress had caught fire while she was doing the laundry, Jackson had insisted Sarah not wear her crinoline when she was doing the laundry or tending the stove, a fashion Nate heartily approved. But as he watched her, he realized he’d have to rethink the wisdom because when Sarah bent down to the basket of wet clothes at her feet, the fabric pulled tight, accentuating every curve and crevice of her ass. Nate’s cock stiffened again, leaving him decidedly uncomfortable. It didn’t ease a whit when she reached up to hang one of his nightshirts on the clothesline, the sun slipped from behind the cloud, and turned her calico skirts near transparent.

  There was no way in hell he’d be able to wear that nightshirt without thinking about her washing it. Hell in a handbasket, now he’d have a hard-on every damned night.

  ***

  “What’ll happen to them, Zack?” How was Jackson going to tell Sarah that her brother had been arrested? Or that her stepfather had gone missing? She’d probably want to head back there, but there was no damned way he could leave the ranch, not with Nate housebound.

  Giving Jackson a curious look, the Ranger struck his match on the sole of his boot. He took his time lighting his cigar, waiting until he’d blown out a long stream of smoke before he answered. “They’re bein’ held until the circuit judge arrives—that’s a week Monday. But I have to say, it don’t look good for either McLeod or Hasley. Last rustlers facing the judge had their necks stretched, and those fellows had only rustled twelve cattle.”

  “What about Josiah McLeod? Where’s he at?” Jackson scrubbed his hand over his face, not caring that the dirt would mix with the sweat. If he was lucky, it would keep the swarms of mosquitoes away until he could get home. If he never heard another whine of one of those bloodsuckers he’d be happy.

  “He wasn’t on the ranch when we found the cattle. We tracked him to a local whorehouse, but he was gone by the time we arrived. We’re keeping an eye on his place to see if he shows up. If he does, he’ll be sharin’ the cell with his son. Thing is, we may have to ask your wife to swear out a statement as to what she heard them discussing.”

  “She won’t have to testify in person?”

  Zack frowned. “Probably not, but it depends upon if they hire a lawyer.”

  “But the cattle were found on McLeod’s property.”

  “Not exactly. They were on government land adjoining his ranch. Someone had put up barbed wire around it to keep the herd contained, but as I said, we can’t prove Josiah had any knowledge of it since it’s at the far end, and it looked like the fencing was fairly new.”

  “So it’s possible he’d claim he hadn’t ridden out that way lately and didn’t know it existed,” Jackson finished.

  “You’ve got the right of it. Either way, we caught Walt red-handed, so he’ll soon be dancin’ at the end of a rope. As for Hasley, he’s claiming innocence. But since we caught him changing the brands, we’ve got the goods on him. So he’ll swing too.”

  Jackson rubbed the back of his neck. “Considering how they treated Sarah, I can’t say I’m upset at their end.” Of course, it might be different for Sarah. “What about our own troubles? You get a lead on who stole Nate’s cattle yet?”

  The trouble Bobby Lee Culpepper had summoned them about had turned out to be a cut fence and fifty missing cattle. If Hasley and McLeod hadn’t already been locked up, he might have suspected them.

  “Nope.” With a curse, Zack slapped a mosquito on his arm then took another drag on his cigar. “We’ve stepped up our patrol of the area, and our guys are keeping an eye out for strangers or cattle whose brands may have been tampered with, but I wouldn’t hold out much hope that you’ll get ’em back.”

  “I guess that’s as much as I can ask.” But damn it, he hated having to leave it in others’ hands, even if those people were Rangers as capable as Zack Barnett and his men. Besides, the cattle had probably long since been slaughtered and served up as some easterner’s dinner.

  “Yup. The good Lord knows we don’t need any more vigilantes and their lynchin’ parties. In the meantime, you should get home and get some sleep. You look like you’re ready to drop out of the saddle.”

  He must look rougher than he thought. Truth be told, he was having a bucketload of problems keeping his eyes open. “Had some coyotes attacking the herd. Between them and the branding and castrating…”

  “Yup. Another reason I prefer to be a ranger instead of a rancher.” A cloud of Zack’s cigar smoke looped and swirled around his head before it dissipated. “How’s Nate doin’ these days?”

  “Better. He’s out of the damned wheelchair and up on a pair of crutches, but the doc ain’t sure his leg’s ever gonna be as strong as it was before.”

  “At least he still has it. That’s somethin’ anyway.” The Ranger slowed his horse as they approached the road to town. “I’ll let you know if we hear anything more. Either about the rustlers or your wife’s folks.”

  Zack turned his horse, leaving Jackson to continue toward the Circle Star. He didn’t remember closing his eyes until he realized Thunder had stopped walking and had to open them. Damn it if he wasn’t in the yard by the barn. Scout, his favorite sheepdog, had already settled down on the porch in his favorite spot.

  Shit, he really must have been tired to have fallen asleep on the horse for those last two miles.

  Where the hell were the Simons boys? Why couldn’t they have
been here waiting to take his horse? All he wanted was a hot meal and a soft bed. Was that too much to ask?

  He slid out of the saddle with a groan and led Thunder to the barn. His arms felt like lead weights when he lifted the saddle from the gelding’s back. He gave his horse a quick rub down and tossed some oats in the bucket and eyed the water. “That’ll have to do you for now, boy. I’ll send someone in to make sure you’re looked after proper later.”

  With a pat to the gelding’s rump, he staggered out of the barn and headed to the house. He’d not even opened the screen door when the scent of cinnamon and apple wafted from the hallway. Perfect, Sarah was making another of her apple crumbles. He wrestled off his boots and followed the delicious aroma to the kitchen.

  His hand was on the door when Nate’s voice reached him.

  “You have magic hands, Sarah.” Nate groaned, a deep rumble rich in contentment and…satisfaction? “Yeah, right there, that’s the spot. That feels so good.”

  The last time he’d heard that pitch to Nate’s voice had been when they’d been… No. Sarah wouldn’t be doing that to Nate. Would she? Had they been having an affair right under his nose?

  Sarah’s “You’re as hard as a rock” had him shoving open the door and stomping into the kitchen only to have to pull up. Nate sat in a chair while Sarah stood behind him. Massaging his shoulders.

  “Hey, Jackson.” Nate closed his eyes as Sarah dug her fingers into his shoulder. “Darn it, woman, you’ve got strong thumbs.”

  Sarah smiled at him, a completely innocent smile that told him how glad she was he was home. Well, shit. If that didn’t make him the biggest horse’s ass around.

  “I kept your dinner warm.” She patted Nate’s shoulder then moved to the stove. As she passed him, she reached up on her toes and gave him a kiss. “Why don’t you get washed up and out of those clothes? By the time you get back, I’ll have it all set out for you.”

  Washed and changed. He looked down at his hands and saw the dirt on them, compared them to Nate’s clean hands. Cow shit and dried blood from the steers he’d castrated clung to his pants, while Nate looked like he was ready to go to church.

  What the hell was he doing here?

  He grabbed the pail of water she kept warm on the stove and carried it to the bedroom. With a curse at himself, he slipped his suspenders off his shoulders and undid the buttons, not caring that he was a bit rough on them. He should care, though. If he tore one, Sarah would be the one who would have to sew it back on.

  Damn it, he wasn’t cut out to be a husband.

  A slow thumping up the stairs warned him that Nate was headed his way.

  It pained him to watch Nate limp into the bedroom. Nate used to be agile. Strong. Vibrant. Now he had to rely on that damned set of crutches Doc Shaw set him up with. It wasn’t fucking right.

  “Nothing was going on between us, Jack.”

  He turned his back on Nate, concentrating on pouring water from the pail into the ewer. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t try to bullshit me. You thought Sarah was cheating on you with me when you walked into the kitchen. I saw it in your face.”

  Jackson braced his arms on the table and hung his head. “When I was coming down the hall, you sounded just like you did when I…when we…” fucked. Except it hadn’t been fucking with Sarah. Or with Nate for that matter. “I couldn’t figure out if I was angry at her for being with you, or angry at you for being with her.”

  “She’s your wife. You have a right to be protective of her. There’s no shame to that.” Nate leaned against the door. “What’s going on between you two, Jack?”

  “Don’t know what you mean.”

  “You’ve been damned ornery lately.”

  “I’ve had a lot on my mind, that’s all.” You. Sarah. Running the damned ranch. Finding the rustlers. Calving. Castrating. Coyotes. “Not to mention I’m damned tired.”

  “Too tired to trust your wife? You think I can’t see that you two hardly talk lately, let alone that you two ain’t makin’ that bed of yours squeak anymore?”

  “I’m workin’ my ass off trying to keep this ranch together, damn it.”

  “Yeah, and I appreciate everything you’re doin’ for me, but you should be payin’ more attention to your wife, Jack. You’re drivin’ her away. Makin’ her feel unappreciated. Women like her deserve a soft word here and there. A wildflower or two by her plate or on her pillow. Like you used to do.”

  But he’d left one for her just the other…shit. When was the last time he’d brought her a flower? “I don’t have a lot of time to mollycoddle her. She knows I love her.”

  “Does she? You tell her that in words?”

  “She knows it.”

  Nate hmmed. “Sarah thinks you don’t love her because you ain’t turnin’ to her anymore, Jack. She thinks you prefer me and resent her.”

  “I think you got that backward.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “She knows about us, Nate. She knows what we are. What we’ve done. She ain’t touched me or let me touch her ever since you got sick. Hell, she sleeps as far away from me on the bed as she can.”

  He missed the gentle touches she used to give him, the passion she’d displayed in their bedroom, the way he’d catch her looking at him—usually his ass—when she thought he wasn’t watching. So she still made his chili just the way he liked it, and picked out the pieces of tomato in his salad before she served it to him. That was just her being her. “Can’t say as I blame her, I guess. Not many women would respond well to accepting that their husband’s a…” He forced the word out, hating to hear it out loud. “…sodomist.”

  Even though she’d reacted with more grace than he’d dreamed possible, every day he came home wondering if he’d discover she’d moved out. If he’d wake up to a lynch mob.

  “So you think she’d be better off with some other fella?” Nate raised an eyebrow in question.

  “You know she would be.”

  “So who should she be with? That Hasley fella back at the McLeod’s?”

  “No!” Shit, he still had to tell Sarah about her brother’s fate. Didn’t that make the day fuckin’ perfect?

  “Junior Turner then. He’s single and lookin’ for a woman to help him run the mill. She’d have a good life with him.”

  Jackson sneered. “Turner’s twice her age and three times her weight. If he makes it another ten years before he drops from a heart attack, he’ll be lucky. Then where would she be?”

  “How about Butch Panola?”

  “Too short.”

  “Cooter O’Brien.”

  Jackson’s lip curled into a sneer. “He smells like pig shit even after he’s washed.”

  “How about Nate Campbell?” He thumped across the room, stopping to lift one of his damned sticks to poke at Jackson’s chest. “Would I be good enough for her, Jack? A cripple who’s forced to rely on others to keep his ranch runnin’ smooth?”

  Jackson closed his eyes and let his chin fall to his chest to whisper, “You know you would be.”

  “Even though I’ve had a man for a lover?”

  “It doesn’t matter. You’re better than me.”

  “No. I’m not.” Nate shifted his weight to one crutch, and let the other drop against the bed. His hand free, he brushed his fingers over Jackson’s cheek and cupped his jaw in such a tender gesture it about undid Jackson. “Don’t you see? If I deserve a woman like Sarah, then so do you. Why can’t you get that through that pigheaded skull of yours?”

  “Because I love you, too,” Jackson whispered. “I know it ain’t right that I feel like this for another man when I’ve got a wife. I’ve tried to stop, but I can’t turn off what I feel for you like I can blow out a candle.”

  “You can’t deny what you are, but you can’t punish Sarah for it either.”

  “I ain’t punishing her.”

  “No? You obviously respect her if you’re worried about her like this. And I know you sure as hell enjoy Sarah wh
en the two of you are in bed together.”

  “Of course.”

  “Then why the hell haven’t I heard the two of you rockin’ this old bed since this—” Nate gestured to his leg, “—happened?”

  “I told you.” He stared at the wall over Nate’s shoulder. “She’s disgusted by me, Nate. She pulls away whenever I touch her. I won’t force myself on her.”

  “You don’t have to force yourself. You have to prove it’s her you want, not me. Women need to know a man finds them desirable. Hell, you’re the one who taught me that.” When Jackson didn’t answer, Nate shook his head. “What’s the matter, Jack? Can’t get it up around her? Because I can. Hell, I have a hard-on at least three times a day around her. Do you know how many times I’ve had to pretend I’m having a nap so I can give myself a hand-job to ease the blue balls I’ve been getting lately?”

  “That’s enough.” He’d be damned if he’d explain how he’d jerk off watching her sleep, swamped with guilt both for wanting her and for wanting Nate. But hearing that Nate had been thinking of her the same way was too much.

  Nate stepped closer, until they were nose to nose. His eyes were narrowed and his lips thinned in the way that Jackson knew meant he was peeved. “Maybe I should go out there and seduce her in front of you. Show her at least one man in this house would enjoy her beneath them.”

  “The hell you will. Crippled or not, I’ll beat you to an inch of your life.”

  Nate stepped back with a smug look on his face. “Well, it’s about fuckin’ time.”

  Jackson blinked. “You don’t like Sarah? That was all an act to make me jealous?”

  “Aw hell, Jack. Make no mistake, I’d have Sarah in my bed in a heartbeat if I thought I had a chance. But you know I’d never touch her. She’s yours. Which is why I figured it was damn well time you realized it.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t think she’d feel the same way about me. Besides, it’s better for her this way.”