Not wanting to be an interloper, Banner retreated to the kitchen, closing the door on the raised voices, but she couldn’t stop herself from looking out the window at the warring cousins. Just when she was afraid fists were going to fly, Callum took a backward step as if he’d been sucker punched. He stared at Eller for a few seconds, then shook his head in a slow, chastising way.
Eller said something that Callum responded to with a dismissive wave of his hand. Callum hitched up his coat collar and slapped his gloved hands together before sticking his right one out to Eller for a quick but hearty shake.
Perplexed by the swift change of temperaments, Banner couldn’t imagine what had transpired. Obviously, they’d been ready to tear into each other and then, poof!, they were shaking hands and walking away. Blinking, she realized that Callum was already at the back door, his long strides covering the snowy ground quickly. The scents of cattle, hay, and wet earth came in with him.
“You got a minute? I wanted to talk to you. Alone.”
Trepidation – or was it temptation? – swept through her. “Want a cup of coffee?”
“Yes. Thanks.” He removed his hat and gloves, dropping them in one of the kitchen chairs before peeling out of his heavy coat. “Feels good in here.” He sidled closer to the cook stove. “The wind is like a knife out there.”
Closer to him, she noticed pink patches of skin across his high cheekbones. “You should cover your face with your kerchief or scarf so that the wind doesn’t chap your skin.” She handed him a mug of hot coffee.
He frowned at that. “You sound like my mama. Let’s sit.” He nodded at the table and waited for her to take a seat before he turned one of the chairs around and straddled it. Resting his forearms across the back, he cradled the warm mug in his big hands for a few moments before he took a sip of the black brew.
“What were you and Eller arguing about out there? I heard you shouting at each other.”
He drew his brows together. “I was aiming to fire him.”
“Fire him?” She was surprised at the relief that flooded her. “What for?”
“Because he’s riding with the men who put that sign on the barn and murdered Decker.”
Although she suspected as much, hearing it said aloud startled her and she closed her eyes for a few moments to gather herself. “He admitted that?”
“Of course not. If he wanted people to know what he was doing, he wouldn’t cover his face. They’re all cowardly coyotes, so they’ll deny everything.”
“So, you fired him.” Thank God.
“No, I didn’t.” He sounded disgusted, and when his gaze lifted from the coffee mug to her, regret had darkened it. “Lilah’s with child.”
The news rocked Banner back and she slumped in the chair.
“I was on the verge of telling him to clear out. Then he said he’d promised Lilah not to do anything dangerous now that he’s going to be a father.” He took another gulp of coffee and swiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I could let him go without another thought about it. But with Lilah in that condition . . .” He shook his head.
“Do you think the baby is Eller’s?” Banner asked, voicing the question that burned in her mind. From the quick intake of Callum’s breath, she realized that he hadn’t questioned it until that moment. His eyes rounded with worry. “You think it might be Ben’s.”
She bobbed one shoulder. “Anything’s possible.”
He ran a hand down his face. “Hell, I hope not. I think Ben’s got enough sense to pull out before—” He stopped himself, his gaze darting to hers. “Ben’s not a green boy.”
Banner ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at his embarrassment at discussing intimate precautions. “And I’m not a green girl,” she assured him.
He studied her and she thought that he was both surprised and intrigued by her retort. “I don’t believe Eller. I think he’s as thick as thieves with the vigilantes.”
“When is Altus Decker’s funeral? Have you heard?”
“I believe it’s tomorrow morning. Why? You’re not thinking of going to it, are you?”
“Yes. You don’t mind if I take off work for a few hours, do you?”
“Why do you want to go? You didn’t like him.”
“True, I didn’t, but if anyone’s looking, I want them to see that I abhor what happened to him.”
He drank some of the coffee as he continued to drink her in. “Being there could be asking for more trouble.”
“I’m certainly not going to let anyone keep me from doing what I think is right and proper.”
“If you insist on going, I’ll go with you.” Setting the mug on the table, he rested his chin on his folded arms along the back of the chair. “I talked to the ranch hands this morning and told them that I wasn’t going to give an inch to the vigilante group. I told them if they didn’t want to be stuck in the trouble that will undoubtedly cause, they’re all free to leave.”
“You did?” She pressed a hand to her thudding heart. “You fired everyone?”
“No,” he said, his tone placating. “I gave them fair warning is all. Nobody has made tracks yet.”
“And if they do, just how do you think you’ll see to the herd?”
“Me and Ben and his brothers along with Hollis could manage.”
“You didn’t tell them that they can leave, too?”
“I did, but I don’t think they’ll take me up on it.”
“I don’t think any of them will, but that’s beside the point.”
“Oh? What’s the point?”
“That you act as if you can live your life by yourself. That you can take care of this ranch, the herd, and my herd without depending on anyone else.”
“I’ve never said that.”
“No, but you don’t invite people to stand by your side either. I’ve watched you. The other men work in pairs, but you go off alone. I’d like a dollar for every time I’ve noticed you and Butter at the crest of that far hill I can see from the front porch. Just you. No other rider with you.”
“You’re making too much of it. I work with the others. You just don’t see it.”
“I asked Hollis about it and he says you don’t even pair up with Ben, whom you seem the closest to.”
“Hollis is one to talk. If he’s not a loner, then I’m a gadfly.”
“You’re right, but Hollis has always been a loner. You haven’t been. I used to never see you without one or both of your brothers at your side.” She noted the way his eyes shuttered and the downward dip of his lips. He heaved a sigh and braced his hands on the table, getting ready to find his feet, so she gripped his wrist to keep him in place. “Don’t shut me out, Callum. I understand. Believe me, I do. You never wanted to be on this ranch without your brothers. I imagine that every day you’re out there, you see them and remember how it was when you were all together. No brothers were closer than the Latimers.”
“I don’t want to talk about this. Does no good.” His tone was flat.
“To talk about them? To remember the good times? Isn’t it up to us to tell the stories of their lives and how much they were loved?” She ran her thumb along the inside of his wrist in a comforting gesture, feeling his strong, steady pulse. “You’re not cut out to be a loner, Callum. It’s not in your nature.”
His expression was hard. “I don’t need you to fix me, Banner.”
The cold splash of his words made her snatch her hand from his wrist. “What does that mean? I’m not . . .” She shook her head, confused by his cool regard. I don’t need you. That part of what he’d said stung.
He finished the coffee, his brow furrowed. “Just don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself. Going to Decker’s funeral will rile some people.”
“I’m going.” She traded him, stubborn stare for stubborn stare. “You don’t have to come with me.” Years of taunts and sneers came back on her, obliterating everything except for her stinging feelings. “You don’t have to be seen with me.
”
“Just what the hell does that mean? I’m trying to protect you, damn it.”
“Protect me or you? Did you come to your senses, Callum? Did you remember who I am? A dirty Payne?”
“That’s a load of bullshit and you know it.” He pushed up to his feet, towering over her.
She laughed under her breath at how foolish she was to think this spark of desire between them would be more than that for him. For days now, he’d been pushing her away, putting more and more distance between them. She looked up at him, letting him see the glimmer of sadness in her eyes.
The air seemed to overheat and she sensed the coldness in him melt as if in a flashfire. He gripped her upper arms and pulled her up to meet his descending mouth. He made a strangled sound as his hands moved from her arms to her waist and then to her hips. He pressed her closer until she could feel the bite of his belt buckle and the hammering of his heart.
Passion flamed through her, shocking her with its intensity. He trailed kisses from the corner of her eye down her cheek and along the curve of her neck, making her quiver with longing.
“You’re enough to drive a man insane, Banner,” he whispered, feverishly.
“I don’t know what I’ve done to push you away, but I’m sorry.”
He inched back from her, a frown marring his features. “I’m haven’t been . . .” He closed his eyes for a second and then nodded “Okay, maybe I have been. I just don’t want you to treat me as if I need looking after.”
It was her turn to frown. “Have I done that?” She smoothed his brow with her fingertips and he leaned the side of his face into her palm as he closed his eyes again on a long sigh. “I have every confidence in you, Callum Latimer,” she whispered, relieved that whatever barriers that had been between them seeme to be crumbling. “It’s just that those renegades want you on their side. You’re respected and powerful and it rankles them that you refuse to throw in with them.”
A rueful smile touched his lips. “I’m respected and powerful?”
“You are,” she affirmed and then repeated for good measure when he opened his eyes. “You are, Callum. You’re one of our war heroes and a Latimer. The Latimer now.”
He winced and lifted his face away from her hand. “I’m not a war hero.”
Her expression chided him. “You led men into the ugly maw of war. No one has forgotten that. Even Hollis, who doesn’t have anything good to say about the war, admires how you fought in it.” She rested her hands along his sides, under his ribs. “Be careful out there, Callum. Don’t ride alone all the time. It’s foolhardy and you’re no fool.”
After a few moments, he nodded slowly and ran a fingertip across her lips, smiling when she pursed them in a kiss.
“I’ll take you to the funeral,” he said, his voice husky with emotion as he eased away from her to grab his hat and coat. “I don’t like it, but I’ll do it.”
###
Altus Decker’s funeral was attended by more people than Banner would have ever believed possible. All of his ranch hands and house staff – eighteen by Banner’s head count – were present, along with a dozen or so neighbors and townspeople. Preacher Vancroft had declined to give the graveside sermon and prayer, leaving it to a preacher from the Rugged Cross Baptist Church on the outskirts of Piney Ridge. Its congregation was made up almost entirely of freed slaves and Yankees of all colors. To her knowledge, Altus had never set foot in that church.
They all stood in the Piney Ridge cemetery around the coffin while the brown-skinned preacher told of Decker’s determination to be a well-respected rancher in a part of the country that was still hostile toward people born and bred in the eastern United States. She felt the tension radiating off Callum, who stood beside her, running his fingers along the brim of the black hat he held. His dress hat, she noted, glancing at his black trousers, black shirt, black tie, and dark grey vest. Handsome was too mild a word for how he looked. His ebony hair shone glossily in the sunlight and his green eyes moved restlessly, examining the faces around him, scouting for trouble.
“. . . lost all of his immediate family in the War Between the States,” the preacher’s sonorous voice rang out, lancing through her thoughts and wrenching her attention back to the services. “He wanted to make a new beginning here and find new friends and, God willing, start a new family. But it was not to be. He was struck down by unknown assassins in the prime of his life. May God have mercy on their souls for they have committed a grievous sin in murdering Mr. Decker when he meant no harm to anyone.”
Banner studied each face, each solemn expression. She was glad to see Della Dyersburg there with her husband Bob and their daughters. She nodded to them. Like her, Della and her daughters wore black and matching bonnets. Every female in the county and beyond had “mourning clothes,” which had been donned far too often. Della’s answering smile sparked an idea that spread excitement through Banner. While men were hard to talk sense to when it came to revenge and other hostile behavior, women were more willing to listen. Maybe if she had a meeting for women to discuss the violence sweeping across the county, the ladies could become more aware and insist that their menfolk not join nor support the vigilantes.
“Let us pray,” the preacher intoned, and all heads bowed.
When the last “amen” drifted across the cemetery, Banner pulled her heavy, wool shawl closer around her shoulders against the sharp breath of winter. Callum rested his hand on the small of her back, and when she didn’t start for the buggy, he arched a brow in a silent question.
“I just want to speak to the preacher a moment,” she said, then walked away from him before he could comment or, more likely, protest. The preacher stood among a few of Decker’s former house staff, nodding as they spoke to him. When he noticed Banner standing nearby, his dark eyes widened fractionally and he sent her a gentle smile.
“Hello.” Banner held out her gloved hand and he grasped it for a moment before letting go. “I’m Miss Payne. Your words were very moving.”
“Were you a friend of the deceased?”
“Well . . . yes. I knew him. We went to the same church and he wanted to buy my land.”
“Ah.” The preacher nodded.
“Did he ever attend your church?”
“No, he did not. Brother Andre here asked me to conduct the graveside services for Mr. Decker.” He rested a hand on the shoulder of a tall, slim man with wooly black whiskers and a big, toothy grin.
“I worked for Mistah Decker,” Andre said with a pronounced southern drawl. “I was his butlah.”
“Oh, I see.” She regarded the tall man for a moment. “That was kind of you . . . and of you,” she said, switching her gaze from Andre to the preacher. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”
“The Reverend Saul Beauchamp.” He bowed slightly at the waist.
“Beauchamp? I know of a family in Denton with that name.”
“That’s right.” His smile frosted over. “I was one of their slaves.”
A sliver of shame snaked through her. Although her family had never owned slaves, they had never spoken against anyone who did and she’d grown up thinking it was as natural to own other people as it was to witness rain showers every spring. But it was different now. So very different. The war and its consequences had opened her eyes and flooded her conscience with an awareness of the unforgiveable wrong that had been done to so many.
“I hope to visit your church one day, Reverend,” she said, hitching up her chin.
The coldness melted from his smile. “You will be most welcome there, Miss Payne.”
“Thank you.” She gave a small nod, looking from one person to the next, before turning and making her way back to a frowning Callum.
“You just love to stir the embers, don’t you?” he whispered to her when she was near him again.
“I was practicing good manners,” she replied. “I think it’s despicable that Preacher Vancroft wouldn’t preside over Altus’s funeral. Altus gave a lot of money to t
he church. Did you know that? He paid for new hymnals and to have the church painted, inside and out, last spring.”
“You know as well as I do why Vancroft isn’t here.”
“Yes, because he’s a spineless, two-faced coward.”
He angled a glance at her and one corner of his mouth lifted. “Got your dander up there, Miss Payne?”
She gave a “harrumph” and yanked at her shawl. “I won’t enter that church again as long as he is the preacher.” A thought struck her and she stopped, making Callum stop, too. “That’s why you haven’t been to church for a few weeks, isn’t it? Because of Preacher Vancroft siding with the rabble rousers.”
He rubbed his jaw and his eyes twinkled. “Could be. Now let’s get out of this cold wind.”
She spotted Della and her family moving toward a yellow wagon. “You go on. I’ll only be another minute.” Then she marched along the cleared path toward them. “Della!”
The woman stopped and turned. “Hi, there. I was going to say something to you, but this wind is fierce and this here coat of mine is no match for it.”
“I won’t keep you. I just wanted to say hello and ask if you’d come to my home for tea next Sunday. Bring your daughters and mother-in-law, too, if you want.”
“For tea?” She blinked as if confused. “Like a fancy party?”
“No, no. Nothing like that!” Banner sighed. What could she call it? Not a meeting . . . Her gaze fixed on a rip in the sleeve of Della’s coat. “A sewing circle! Bring anything that needs mended and we’ll all pitch in and patch up everything. I’ll prepare something to eat and drink and we’ll make an afternoon of it. Right after church.”
“All? You mean, other women will be there?”
“Yes. Neighbors and friends.” Banner nodded and hoped she was telling the truth. She would extend invitations, but she wasn’t sure others would show up.
Della grinned. “Well, all right then! I’ve never been to such a thing, but we’ll be there! Thanks for asking.”
“Wonderful. See you next Sunday.” She made a shooing motion. “Go on and get out of this cold, quick as you can.” Giving a wave, she pivoted to find Callum right behind her. “Oh! There you are.”
Solitary Horseman Page 20
