by Debra Cowan
Russ knew he couldn’t stand strong against that soft want.
Trying to distract himself, he remembered something he had meant to tell her for a few days. “Thanks again for hiring Willow.”
She frowned. “I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done.”
“A lot of women wouldn’t have hired her. Because of her past. Because of what she obviously was.”
“I would’ve been like that once, but not now.”
“What changed your mind?”
Golden light etched her refined profile. She was quiet for a long moment and when she spoke her voice was unsteady. “If just one person had looked past my brother-in-law’s wealth and status to what he really was, what was really going on, my sister might not be dead.”
The sadness in her eyes twisted at Russ’s heart.
“I try not to judge a book by its cover anymore. I have lapses, but I still try.”
Russ couldn’t take his eyes off her face, softened even more by the hazy yellow wash of the setting sun. Peeling off his glove, he reached out to thumb away a lone tear.
“Oh.” She dabbed at her eyes, looking embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“No harm done.” He stroked her cheek lightly.
“The day has been so nice. I don’t want to ruin it.”
He tugged his glove back on. “You couldn’t ruin anything.”
She gave a little laugh. “I bet that’s not what you said when I first arrived.”
He grinned. “You’ve got me there.”
The sun sank steadily, slowly painting the sky and earth in a warm gold then pink. Russ watched Lydia carefully. “Have you had any news about DeBoard?”
“My father says Philip still hasn’t been found. No one seems to know what happened to him.”
Russ fought the urge to twine a loose strand of her hair around his finger. “Does that make you nervous? Not knowing where he is?”
“Not when I’m with you.”
“Good.” Caught in the black velvet of her eyes, it was an effort to shift his gaze back to the sunset. “Look.”
They sat silently as the sun hit the horizon. A burst of red and gold melted into the landscape then a line of fiery orange traced the line of the horizon. “Here it comes,” he said quietly.
The sun dipped lower, almost hidden behind the hills. Then, for one instant, there was a separation between twilight and the bold colors of day’s end. Lydia drew in a sharp breath. “It really does look like the color is coming out of the earth.”
As they watched, the sun seeped into its own colors until it was a streak of glaring yellow at the base of blue-gray shadows. Dusk settled over the land.
“That was beautiful!”
Lydia looked so delighted that Russ laughed. “Worth stopping for?”
“Oh, yes.”
He picked up the reins and clucked to the horse. “Glad you thought so.”
As they drove, darkness settled over the prairie. Moonlight threw shadows across the tall grass, in the dips and rises across the land.
Lydia tilted her head. “Has anyone expressed interest in your share of the hotel lately?”
“Not yet.” Was she still wanting him out of the hotel? His quick flare of irritation disappeared when he saw the genuine concern in her eyes. The caring.
“I hope my idea about the shops brings in some money,” he said. “It’s looking like that might be all I have to give the banker and it’s not enough. We could lose the ranch, everything.”
“What about your brother? Or father?”
“What about ’em?” He couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice.
She looked taken aback at his tone. “I thought they might have some ideas.”
“Matt and I have talked about it,” he said gruffly.
“But you haven’t talked with your father?”
What was she getting at? Why was she asking him about this?
Lydia clenched her hands tighter in the lap robe. Something was bothering him. There was a grimness in his tone that went beyond his frustration about not being able to repay the loan.
He’d been there when she needed to talk about Philip. “If you need to talk to someone, you can talk to me.”
“Why would I need to do that?” he asked, sounding impatient.
She hesitated. “I overheard you and Matt talking when we first arrived at your ranch. He said you shouldn’t blame yourself for something.”
Russ’s handsome face closed up and he flicked the reins hard against the horse’s rump. The animal hopped, jerking the buggy roughly.
He didn’t say anything for a long time. Long enough that she tried to ease the tension lashing his big frame. “I don’t want to spoil our day. Forget I brought it up.”
“No, it’s all right. It’s just not something I talk about much.”
Twilight drifted across the hard angles of his face and for an instant, he looked so anguished that Lydia’s heart tightened painfully. She couldn’t bear the look on his face. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
“You’ve told me all your secrets. I guess turnabout is fair play.”
She swallowed hard. She hadn’t told him all her secrets.
His face went carefully blank and she felt a twinge of compassion. Whatever it was had hurt him deeply.
“It’s my fault Pa’s in that wheelchair.”
An instant protest sprang to her lips, but she didn’t voice it. He needed someone to listen, not placate. “I thought he had an accident while putting up fence.”
“He did. He was doing my work.” Russ pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was the one who was supposed to be there.”
“I don’t understand. Does he blame you?”
“No, but he should. You know why I wasn’t there? Because I was with a couple of whor—uh, with some lady friends.”
Ladies of the evening. Even in the shadows, Lydia could see a dark flush on his neck. And the guilt and self-loathing in his expression.
“If I had been working at the ranch like I was supposed to, my father wouldn’t have been doing my job. It was stringing that fence on the edge of the gully that caused him to fall and impale his leg on a tree branch. He nearly bled to death before Riley Holt found him.”
Lydia’s heart ached. She didn’t think J.T. blamed Russ, but what she thought didn’t matter. Russ believed his father held him responsible. There was nothing she could say or do to change that. It hurt. As much as the fact that he had opened up completely to her and she couldn’t do the same.
After seeing the ranch, she knew how much he stood to lose, how much they all stood to lose. J.T. had borrowed against the ranch to continue a profitable cattle-breeding operation, but rustlers had hit the Triple B’s herd so hard that now even selling every head of cattle wouldn’t pay off the banknote.
She reached over and slipped her hand into his much bigger one. “Have you ever talked to your father about this?”
“Not since it happened,” he said gruffly.
“Maybe you should think about it.”
He stared at her for so long she felt her stomach hollow out. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. You helped me with Philip. I just wanted to return the favor.”
She also wanted to tell him the truth about the rescue operation and felt she couldn’t. The guilt ate at her.
“It’s not that. I don’t mind talking about it with you.”
He curved her hand in the crook of his arm. “It’s just that I hadn’t thought about discussing it with Pa. Seems to me I should take care of it.”
“It isn’t entirely your responsibility. Regret is a heavy burden to carry.” In the darkness, his eyes glittered. “That’s how I feel about my sister, because I didn’t take any action at the time on her behalf.”
Russ searched Lydia’s face as her hand tightened on his arm. He considered her suggestion that he should talk to Pa before it was too late. The woman had gotten Russ to tell her something only three people knew. There was a t
ime when that would’ve made him angry, but not tonight, not with her. “I’ll think about it.”
She smiled, leaving her hand where it was as they drove into town and up to the front of the hotel.
“You could’ve dropped me at the back.”
He shook his head. “I’m walking you up.”
“We’ll probably both be downstairs later anyway.”
“Don’t care.”
“All right.” She looked pleased.
He helped her from the buggy and took her through the front doors, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back.
They encountered few people on their way upstairs. Gaslight burned bright down the hall. In front of her rooms, he stood to the side as she unlocked the door. Light glided over her perfect profile, played against the black satin of her hair.
She looked up, standing so close that her breath tickled his face. “Today was wonderful. Thank you.”
“Sorry if I brought it down.”
“I liked that you felt you could be open with me.”
“One reason I got you out of the hotel is so you wouldn’t have to listen to anyone’s problems, then I—”
She touched a gloved finger to his lips. “Please don’t regret telling me. I don’t regret that you did.”
He was starting to feel that way, too. He caught her hand, bracing one arm above her head. “So, you’ll see me again?”
“Probably in less than an hour.”
“You know what I mean.” He played with her fingers.
“Maybe.”
The flirty smile she gave him drew him up tight. He wanted to carry her to his room. Or hers.
“Thanks for going today. It did my pa a world of good to see somebody besides me or Matt. And it made my day.”
“I’m glad.”
“Good night.” He lifted her hand to brush a kiss across her knuckles. At the last second, he turned her wrist and nudged aside the edge of her glove to touch his mouth to her pulse.
Her breath caught, and a long moment stretched between them before he released her.
She stepped inside her room and closed the door with a smile.
Russ stood there, fighting the urge to knock and ask her to let him in. Tension coiled in his gut. He’d managed to keep his hands off her, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could do it.
Chapter Thirteen
T he guilt on Russ’s face when he had told her about his father stuck in Lydia’s mind and bothered her all the next day. She ached for him. Telling her had been plainly difficult. She’d seen a flash of vulnerability she never would’ve guessed he had.
He’d shared two of the most painful things she could imagine. While she had confided in him and felt some of her burden lifted, she hadn’t told him everything. She couldn’t stop thinking about telling Russ the truth.
About the operation. About Bram. Especially about Bram.
The decision weighed on her. She changed her mind a dozen times, cautioning herself that the fewer people who knew about the operation, the less risk there would be. But Russ had opened up to her completely. He deserved no less from her. He might be angry at first that she had been operating the network without his knowledge, but he would eventually understand. She was sure of that.
By nightfall, she knew she couldn’t have this between them anymore. She went looking for him, deciding to try his office first. As she passed the hotel’s front entrance, she noticed several people gathered in the street, talking. She wondered what was going on.
Russ’s door was open, and she saw him gathering boxes of bullets and putting them in his saddlebags, quickly yet methodically. His rifle lay across the desk; his revolver was beside it.
Alarm skittered through her as she stepped inside. “What’s happened? What’s going on?”
Tension filled the room, a sense of urgency. When he turned to look at her, the grim set of his mouth had her heart skipping a beat. “Russ?”
“It’s Matt. He found those rustlers and they beat him up.”
She gasped. “How badly?”
“No broken bones, according to Riley. Whatever they did didn’t keep him from following them a ways. He sent Riley to town with a message to bring a posse and meet him at a dry creek bed northwest of here.”
Lydia’s need to tell Russ about the operation faded. Apprehension slicked down her spine. “A posse? You’re going after them?”
“Yeah.” Russ yanked a shirt from his wardrobe and stuffed it in one of the saddlebags along with a pair of socks.
“Do you have any idea how long you’ll be gone?”
“No.”
After buckling on his holster, he slid one big hand down the inside of his thigh to tie the leather thong. The sight of his hand there had Lydia’s mouth going dry. He shrugged into his duster, hefted the saddlebags over one shoulder and put on his hat.
Picking up his rifle, he started out of his office.
What she’d come to say would have to wait. His brother was hurt and people were waiting on Russ to travel.
He strode to the side door that led outside. “If you need anything, go to Ef.”
She nodded, hurrying to keep pace with his long-legged strides, following him through the open doorway. The door thudded shut behind them and he frowned at her. “It’s cold out here. You don’t have a coat.”
“I’m fine.” Rubbing her arms, she went with him into the livery. The smell of hay had her nose itching.
Once inside, Russ eased the saddlebags off his shoulder and laid the rifle on the ground, facing away from them.
“Why isn’t Ef going with you?” Lydia asked.
“A few men always stay in town to help the older ones guard the women and children. Tonight, Ef drew one of the short straws.”
Lydia wished it had been Russ instead.
As if it weighed nothing, he plucked a worn black saddle and gray-striped saddle blanket from a sawhorse in the corner.
She moved quickly to open his horse’s stall.
“Thanks.” Russ had the gelding saddled and was leading the animal out in a couple of minutes.
He picked up his rifle and slid it into the scabbard then tossed the saddlebags over the horse’s rump, adjusting them to distribute the weight evenly.
“Did you bring anything to eat?” she asked.
“Some of Naomi’s corn bread and leftover venison.”
“Good. I hope Matt’s all right.”
“He’ll be madder than hell.”
Her nerves twanged as she moved closer. The horse nudged her hip. “Please be careful. Ride safe.”
He looked at her then, fully for the first time since she’d found him. “Nobody’s told me that since my ma.”
“You’d best do it.” Lydia swallowed past a lump in her throat, but her voice broke anyway. “You won’t be much use to me if you’re shot full of holes.”
In the dim light, with his hat pulled low and his jaw shadowed with stubble, he looked deadly, dangerous. The very real possibility that he could be hurt or worse tied her stomach in knots.
He palmed off his hat and hung it on the saddle horn, then reached for her.
One big iron-hard arm curled around her waist and he pulled her right into the hard power of his body. Before she could blink, he kissed her.
Taken by surprise, she froze for a moment.
“Kiss me back,” he rasped against her lips in a voice that had her legs going to water.
Sliding her arms around his neck, she opened her mouth to his. She expected fast and hard; that’s what she got at first. Then his lips softened and moved over hers with such tenderness that she melted into him. His free hand cupped the back of her head, keeping her where he wanted her. His tongue stroked hers and he held her tighter.
Then he pulled away, his eyes dark and serious. “Gotta go.”
She could barely gather her thoughts. As she walked out of the livery with him, she saw Davis Lee and Josie standing several feet away with their heads close together. Jericho kissed
Catherine, placing a protective hand on her gently swollen belly.
Charlie Haskell’s wife, May, as well as Cal Doyle’s Lizzie, stood quietly by.
“Is this everyone?” Lydia asked.
“We’ll meet Jake and Bram on our way.” Russ mounted and looked down, his blue eyes full of an indefinable emotion.
She laid a hand on his knee, feeling the heat and muscle of his leg. “Promise you’ll be careful.”
He covered her hand with his. “I promise.”
Throat tight, she stepped away as he turned his horse and rode out with the others, heading west as she and Russ had done yesterday.
Ef and Naomi stood on the hotel’s wide front porch with Willow. Lydia made her way over to Josie and Catherine. “If either of you would like to stay at the hotel tonight, there’s plenty of room.”
No abuse victims were expected that evening so Lydia had no qualms about making the offer. Both women thanked her, but neither accepted. Lydia made the same offer to the other women, who also declined, saying they would stay at their homes.
As she moved into the hotel with Ef and Naomi, she noticed Russ’s office door was still open. She walked over and closed it, catching a whiff of his dark male scent.
There was a hollowness in Lydia’s chest she’d felt only one other time. When Isabel died. She hoped Russ and the others would be all right.
Late that night, Lydia panicked when Naomi woke her. Her first thought was about Russ. No, Naomi said. There was no news about him or the others, but there was an unexpected arrival at the back door. Lydia threw on her wrapper and slippers, hurrying down the stairs with her friend.
“I was coming in from the laundry and she was lying at the back door,” the black woman whispered. “She has no shoes.”
They hurried through the dining room, the spill of light from the lobby enough to show the way.
Lydia noticed then that her friend was still dressed. “You haven’t been to bed yet.”
“Ef and I were talking.”
Lydia nodded as she stepped onto the back porch and saw an unconscious woman. Coatless and barefoot, her skin was ghostly pale, emphasized even more by the dark streaks on her feet. Blood, Lydia realized.
