by Multiple
“This Vincent is a good man, yes?” She paused to give Jed a long look.
“He’s a fair one. Good with the animals, a hard worker and doesn’t carry a grudge. I expect a good year of working his way up to it and he could be building a cabin for our girl.”
“Thank you, Mister Jed.”
“Well, you go look after her and don’t hesitate to let me know if the boy needs a thrashing or two to see some sense.” Jed waited for Annabeth to sail out of the room after her daughter before the three men took their seats.
Sam glanced across the table and saw the questions on Scarlett’s face. He reached for the basket of biscuits and held it out to her generously, feeling the reluctant pluck to explain. “Lena lost her beau in the war. She’s been grieving for five years now. So we’re a might particular about the boys that come calling.”
She took one of the biscuits with careful fingers and set it down next to the food on her already heavily laden plate. “That’s very sweet of you.”
“We look after our family,” Sam held her gaze before nodding his head at his father and brother meaningfully. “We’re not going to let anyone hurt them.”
Scarlett’s sunny disposition slipped further as she received his message and Sam nodded to himself, ignoring the darker looks his father and brother sent in his direction. His little minx may have them fooled, but he wasn’t about to let her use his family against him.
Chapter Six
The lunch was the longest, strangest hour of her life. Sam all but ignored her throughout the meal, addressing any comments to his father and brother. Until Micah pulled her into the talks about their breeding stock, how the Flying K selected which mares to breed and which stallions would stand stud. Horses she understood, particularly Micah’s desire to breed gentleness, endurance and strength.
Micah’s face lit up when he talked about horses, growing more animated and that earned her scowls from Sam. She tried to ignore the disapproval that simmered across the table, but every time she met his eyes, she resisted the urge to shrink back into the seat.
“I don’t think that’s really an appropriate discussion for a lady,” Sam’s gaze focused on Micah, spreading his disapproval around.
“Why not? Scarlett’s got a good grasp of animal husbandry. Don’t you, sweetheart?” He tacked the endearment on at the end with a smirk towards his brother, not her.
The food sat like a stone in her stomach, so she pushed the mashed potatoes around. She would have to apologize to Lena later for not doing the meal more justice. She’d been very hungry when she sat down, but now all she wanted to do was get away from the table.
Get away from Sam.
“I like horses. They’re simple. They’re straightforward and they don’t go out of their way to make you feel bad about being whom you are. They just accept you based on how you treat them.” Scarlett wasn’t afraid of a fight. Far from it, but she was tired and she was growing more annoyed with Sam’s attitude. Prisoner or not, under arrest or not, he’d brought here her. She didn’t ask to come to the ranch or meet his family or be invited to a meal.
“They also distrust based on behavior too. You slap a horse or take its food, it will either try to take it back or runaway, it doesn’t look for praise.”
She dabbed at her mouth with a linen napkin, her posture stiffening. The dress was a lot more fabric than she was used to wearing and the stiff whalebone in the corset was tight as a noose around her chest.
“It would depend on why you smacked the horse or took the food. Manners are to be rewarded. Lead mares will drive young foals and yearlings off the feed if they are kicking, snapping or pawing at their elders.”
“It’s only effective as long as the survival of that yearling is dependent on being in the herd, otherwise it’s just cruel.” Sam sliced into his chicken, biting into a forkful as though attacking it.
“But horses aren’t cruel by nature. That’s a purely human trait.” Scarlett lifted her chin, her gaze narrowing as she met and held Sam’s. She refused to flinch or back down. Sam was pushing, pushing hard, and her brothers did the same, pouncing on the first flagging sign of her defense.
“I agree. You can trust a horse to stay true to its nature. Women, on the other hand, know how to manipulate men into getting what they want.”
“Samuel.” With one word, his father silenced the marshal and Scarlett resisted the urge to give him a look of gratitude. This was her fight and that statement stung.
“Don’t listen to him, Miss Scarlett. Sam’s hide is too tough to be led about by a woman, but he’s convinced their all trying too. He hasn’t figured out yet that women aren’t interested in sour dispositions and snarled conversations.” Micah nudged her chair with his boot, a familiar show of support.
The giggle slipped out before she could stop it. Scarlett pressed the napkin to her lips and murmured an apology. “To be fair, the marshal has every reason to distrust me.”
She wasn’t sure who was more surprised by her defense: Sam, his family or herself. But she pressed on.
“We’ve only just met and not under the best of circumstances, I admit. I think Sam’s been as kind as could be expected and trust is something one must earn.”
Scarlett studied the emotions that flitted across Sam’s face. They were quick as summer clouds on a windy day, moving too swift to understand the true shape of them. His slow nod was an unexpected boon. Scarlett didn’t want to be Sam’s enemy, even if she couldn’t tell him the truth or answer his questions about her brothers.
“We have time to fix that then,” Micah grinned, scraping the last bite off food off his plate. He glanced at her food with interest. “Aren’t you hungry, Miss Scarlett?”
Micah was like Cody, always hungry and she pushed her plate towards him. “Please, help yourself.”
“Thank you!” He went to work offloading her uneaten chicken, mashed potatoes and the biscuit Sam gave her to his own plate.
“Scarlett,” Jebidiah cleared his throat, setting his napkin down across his cleared plate. With one word, he pulled her attention away from Sam. Scarlett braced herself. Jebidiah Kane had been exceedingly kind to her since her arrival, sweeping aside any possible objections with quick directives and an air of expectation.
She had a feeling that kindness was about to be tested.
“Yes, sir?” She gripped her hands together in her lap, nerves fluttering around the stone in her belly.
“You understand you’re safe here. No one on this ranch is going to hurt you.”
“Yes, sir.” As safe as a prisoner could be, she supposed. The senior Kane didn’t treat her as a prisoner at all and Micah was as playful as any of her brothers, but the censure in Sam’s eyes was an all to real reminder that she was not a guest.
To be fair, she was already considering how to leave. She’d checked the barn’s location from the windows of her room after the bath. She’d looked at the clothes Lena laid out for her and worried about the ones she’d taken away. The dress was not something she wanted to ride in, not that she was considering taking any of their horses.
Horse thieves were the worst of the worst and she wouldn’t be reduced to that. But on foot, it could take her days to meet back up with her brothers, if she made it that far. Borrowing a horse might be her only option.
The faint clearing of Jed’s throat dragged her attention back to the present. Her gaze flickered across to Sam. The marshal leaned back in the chair, his eyes were hooded, but she could feel the weight of his stare pressing down on her, stripping away the green velvet and looking deep inside.
Her stomach fluttered again. She wondered what it would be like if he did strip off her dress, pressed up against her and touched her with the rough calluses on his palms. He was hard and lean in all the same places she was soft and curvy. She could recall the way his body pressed to hers in the saddle and heat pooled in her middle, spreading upwards, like a geyser.
She could feel her own blush
stinging her cheeks and she forced her gaze away, digging her nails into her hands in an effort to get control. Sparks tingled along her palms. Scarlett gulped in a deep breath of air, then another, forcing her heart to calm down.
The fire inside of her wanted out.
“Samuel told me about the men who were with you at the bank. We know they left you behind, but you don’t have to worry about them coming back for you. You’re safe here.” The words were carefully framed. Jebidiah’s drawl lengthening each word for maximum effect.
A frown knitted Scarlett’s brows together. Jebidiah was reassuring her, but her brothers weren’t a threat to her. He was wrong.
They would come back for her.
If they didn’t find her, they might pull the town apart.
She swallowed, saying nothing. She would no sooner betray Cody and the boys than they would abandon her. She knew the only reason she wasn’t already riding west with them was the marshal pulled her out of the town in the middle of the night.
But Cody knew her scent.
He’d follow it.
No matter how far east the marshal carried her.
Still, she struggled with how to respond to Jebidiah’s offer of comfort. Maybe. “I will have to return to Dorado eventually, won’t I?”
She looked across the table to Sam. He’d said something about sending word for a judge. She would have to face trial. They couldn’t do that at the Flying K, could they?
Jebidiah surprised her by touching her arm. Her skin flared beneath the sleeve, she flinched and dug her nails into her palms, drawing blood. The greater her emotional upset, the less control she had. Quanto pushed her to practice time and time again to avoid such pitfalls, but she was no great master.
The older man removed his hand swiftly, his gaze apologetic. She couldn’t correct the misunderstanding. It was safer for all of them right now if they didn’t touch her. Not when her stomach churned around the stones piling up.
It was hard enough liking the Kanes, even the marshal, when there was so much danger she could pour down onto them. She had to keep herself under control, keep them at arms length and pray that Cody was as stubborn as she’d always believed.
They would come for her.
Hopefully before she hurt anyone.
“May I be excused?” She was already pushing back from the table, rising and retreating. Sparks hazed along the edges of her vision, the unbearable heat inside of her desperate for escape. She barely noticed the three men rushing to their feet or the chair falling over as she circled around the table and fled the room.
Boots tapped a cadence as one of the men followed her, but she ignored it. She had to get outside. Outside, away from the house and its shrine of memories to Sam’s mother. She would never forgive herself if she damaged any of it.
She raced through the foyer to the main door, pulling it open with one hand and seizing her skirt in the other. The damn thing was getting in her way, but she dashed out of the door, across the veranda and down the steps.
Sam was the wind at her back, just there, but she spun away from the outbuildings, heading southeast to one of the ponds she remembered seeing. Water.
She had to get to the water.
She was running, skirt in both hands. Her air came in short, hard bursts that sent stars dancing across her eyes. At the water’s edge, she paused, panting. Her hands pawed at the bodice, but loosening three buttons did nothing for the corset where it locked around her ribs, keeping her from breathing.
“Scarlett,” Sam seized her arm and spun her around, but she jerked away from him. Struggling with the double row of buttons, fighting to open the bodice, to breathe. “What’s wrong?”
He wouldn’t let her pull away, sidestepping and coming right back in front of her at every twist and turn.
“Can’t breathe,” she squeezed the words out past the constriction smothering her. Her knees collapsed, only Sam’s hands on her elbows kept her from falling.
The heat was surging up inside of her, desperate for release. She had to get out of the dress. The water would be safe.
“Hold still.” The command in Sam’s words slapped the panic inside of her, stunning it and she stopped fighting him, her gaze desperate as he pulled a knife out of his boot and then he was slicing through the front of the bodice, buttons flying every which way.
“Sorry Lena,” he muttered. “Turn.” He twisted her when she stumbled against the skirts, trying to obey. The tear of fabric rent the air. Her vision blotted out and she was on her hands and knees when the cage around her chest burst.
Her ribs expanded as she gulped in the cold air, the taste of the pond a sting in the back of her throat. Heat poured out of her hands and she dug her fingers into the loamy clay and dirt that bordered the edge of the pond. Flushing the heat out into the dampness. Three feet away a spark struck a rock and she heard the sizzle and pop as it went air born to land against the water.
Her temperature spiked and then cold hands were rubbing against the bare flesh of her back. Even the hot sun washed cool against her overheated skin. She pushed the flames surging inside of her through her hands. The yellowed grass shimmered, shriveling.
“Easy,” Sam was talking to her. His words a comforting mumble. The cold hand stroking up and down her spine, a second bracing her as she knelt. Scarlett gulped in more air, feeling the first stone inside of her explode and the heat rushed out, a trickle bursting the dam of her control.
Have to get to the water. If I don't, everything is going to burn.
The water in the pond bubbled and her vision blacked out totally.
Awareness buzzed around her lazily, summer flies humming in her ear. Bit by bit, a shimmer of wakefulness sliding over her muscles, each protesting in turn. Her chest was the worst, bruised like the fall taken from a green horse and dragged. Hot and tight, her skin squeezed her bones. Slushy coldness trickled down her breastbone, pooling between her breasts.
“Pa’s gone for the doctor.” The muffled words came from far away.
“Get some more ice and bring me another bucket of water from the well.” Sam. His voice was closer, an odd note of concern pinching his words.
“I’ve got men hauling some up from the ice house. Maybe you should come out here, till the doc comes.”
“And leave her alone?” Censure heated Sam’s tone. “Go Micah, one of us exposed is enough.”
“Sam…”
“Go.” A door shut, closing her into the pocket of silence. Had Sam left? Scarlett struggled with the dark, forcing her eyelids to open. Overhead, wooden beams stretched up into the shadows. A single light flickered. Sliding her tongue over rough, dry lips, she turned her head, looking for the light.
Sam filled her vision, his face harsh in the shadows cast by the kerosene lamp. It had to be kerosene. She could smell the oily smoke. Her throat burned when she swallowed and blessed coldness washed over her face.
He was bathing her cheeks with a damp cloth.
“Easy there, Miss Scarlett.” The gruff tone was nearly gentle, betraying a kindness she thought she’d imagined during their nighttime flight from Dorado. Her head ached. Her chest was worse.
“Hurt,” she managed to whisper, surprised at the rawness of her voice.
“You’re burning up.” The cool swipe off the cloth stroked relief over her face, softening the too taut skin. She was so hot. The fiery pricks of heat stabbed into her consciousness, the fire in her belly was raging in her blood, scorching her skin.
“Not safe for you here.” Terror chased the flames through her blood. Overhead, the wood taunted her. Her gaze skittered around the room. It was a log cabin. Like those she’d seen sprawled about the property.
She could torch the place with a stray thought.
“Shh,” Sam whispered, his hand dipping down off the bed. Water splashed and then the cold cloth was bathing her face again. “We’re getting more ice. Pa went for the doctor. You should have told us you weren’
t feeling well.”
“Not safe,” she tried again. She didn’t want to burn him. She didn’t want to burn anyone. But the fire was a living presence inside of her, coiling like a snake, building up pressure, and rattling a warning that it could strike at any moment.
She struggled against the bed, slippery ice trickling down her sides, soaking the mattress beneath her bare back. Sam’s hands came to rest on her shoulders, forcing her back. His hands were deliciously cold on her naked flesh. Scarlett paused, reality dousing her overheated mind more effectively than the ice melting on her chest.
She was naked. Her nude body bathed in ice that was rapidly melting. Her gaze dipped downwards, skating over the flushed skin and hard peaks of her nipples that strained towards the ceiling. Her hips were soaked, but damp cloth clung to them. The cotton pantaloons with their single drawstring were nearly transparent with wetness.
Her startled gaze skittered back up to meet Sam’s. His cheeks dimpled with a sheepish smile that had her fighting for breath all over again.
“My apologies, Miss Scarlett.” He cleared his throat, his gaze remaining fixed on her face, even as his hands left her shoulders. “You were burning up and you couldn’t breathe. By the time I got the dress open, I could see the fever in your skin.”
His fingers stroked the damp hair off her forehead, so utterly gentle in their ministrations and he was bathing her face again. The almost sweet smile stretching his full lips was a beautiful thing.
The roiling heat in her belly shifted, clenching and rippling. She shivered, the icy trickles tingling over her nipples and she pulled her hands up defensively, covering them. Her gaze dropped to Sam’s chest.
His bare chest.
Her heart squeezed. Her lungs flamed.
A whole new heat raged along her skin.
Her brothers were going to kill her.
Worse.
Her brothers would kill Sam.
Chapter Seven
Cody lay flat against the rocks, his ears pinned back and a low, rumbling growl escaping his throat. He’d shifted hours ago, criss-crossing their back trail and erasing it, but still the posse followed them. It made no damn sense. The man leading them, however, seemed to have the same grit and determination in chasing them as Cody did it trying to evade that posse.
