Saving Cole Turner

by Carrole, Anne

  But God had finally answered her prayers and returned him to her whole and, so far, unscathed. At least in the physical sense. Lord knew, he was scarred elsewhere. How could he not be, enduring what he’d endured, watching what he had to watch, doing what he had to do? She wasn’t about to let him go this time. She was going to hold onto him, heal him, and will him a new life. A better life. The kind of life he should have had all along.

  She looked up into Mary’s frowning face. “What am I going to do? You have to help me, Mary. My whole happiness depends upon it.”

  Mary shook her head. “He’s a handsome devil, I’ll give you that. He walks down the street so proud and determined, with a face as hard as granite, and that golden hair of his. He looks just like those statues of Greek gods I saw in New Orleans all those years ago.”

  What Mary said was true. Kate had never seen a more physically attractive man than Cole Turner. Forget that he was tall and slim-hipped. Forget that muscles bulged, even through his clothes, on his arms, his legs, and everywhere in between. He’d only had to look at her with those sparkling blue eyes of his and smile and her body would be humming with desire.

  When he’d first kissed her again, her entire being had remembered him in one exhilarating instant. Every time he kissed her now, she got lost in the passion, in the feel of his body against hers.

  She hadn’t realized it when he’d left the first time. She figured kissing any boy would turn her body to liquid fire. But five years had taught her the truth. No other man would ever make her feel what Cole did.

  “But he’s not the kind of man you marry,” Mary interrupted Kate’s thoughts. “Trust me, I know. My Frank was just like him. Running from his own demons, chasing after something he’d never have. Cole’s broken, honey, and it would take more than you to fix him.”

  Kate’s heart constricted. Mary knew his history. Knew what he was now. But Kate knew the Cole no one else had glimpsed. She’d seen the scared boy, the heartbroken son, the avenging angel.

  “You married Frank,” Kate pointed out, keeping her tone reasonable.

  Mary sighed. “I did, but I couldn’t change him. I was a widow before I even got with child.” Mary shook her head as she remembered. “It wasn’t a good life, honey.”

  “But you’ve never wanted anyone else.”

  “No,” Mary said quietly. “But I’m not Kate Flanders; rich, beautiful, and able to have just about anyone.”

  “Anyone but Cole Turner.” Kate rubbed her forehead, praying that her plan would work. She had to keep him here. Keep him safe. Mary’s husband had died a violent death and he’d been only a deputy. What was in store for Cole being a bounty hunter, practically asking to be shot?

  Mary reached over, and patted Kate’s hand. “He’s not good for you.”

  Her stomach tumbled at hearing those words again. “That’s what he said.”

  “Well, he’s got more sense then I gave him credit for.”

  “He also said I wouldn’t make him a good wife.” His caustic appraisal still stung even though she wouldn’t let herself believe it.

  “Well, him being on the move, hunting and being hunted, I dare say he’s right. Plus you’re used to the finer things. He knows he can’t give you what your father does.”

  She didn’t want what her father gave her. She wanted Cole.

  “I’m not giving up.” Tears welled in her eyes at the possibility of losing Cole again. Her plan had to work. Kate took a bracing breath, hoping it would calm her palpitating heart. “If Cole…if Cole compromised me, my father would have to let him marry me.”

  Mary gasped and her eyes widened. “You can’t be serious, child.”

  Kate pushed back her chair and stood. “Never more.”

  Mary rose, too, almost toppling her chair. She grabbed for Kate’s hand, clutching it tightly. “You’ll disgrace yourself. You’ll disgrace your father. Your father doesn’t deserve that, Kate. Not from you.”

  Something clamped down, deep inside, at the thought of her father’s disappointment, but Kate couldn’t lose courage now. “I don’t know what else to do. I’m not even sure Cole will do it. He’s turned me down.

  Mary let out a slow breath. “Well, I declare. Maybe that man is better than I thought. Thank God, one of you has some sense. I’m just surprised that one is named Turner.” Mary squeezed Kate’s hand. “You can’t meet him anymore. I’ll have to tell your father if you go meet him again.”

  With a sharp tug, Kate pulled her hand back. “You do what you have to do. And I’ll do what I have to do.”

  Before her resolve could weaken, Kate ran from the muggy room. She didn’t look back, not even when she heard Mary’s sharp intake of breath.

  Kate could only pray Mary followed through on her threat.

  Chapter 3

  Cole reached for the shot glass of whiskey and downed the fiery liquid in one impatient gulp. He turned to face the saloon’s swinging doors and leaned his elbows against the marred oak bar of the Red Bull, pressed his butt hard against the counter, and rested one boot heel on the rail. The piano player was clanking out a lively tune in keeping with the raucous laughter and intermittent shouts coming from the smattering of men who had found their way into the saloon on a Thursday night.

  Too bad Charlie Pritchard wasn’t here yet. Cole didn’t know why he was pursuing buying a ranch. He’d picked up dribs and drabs about ranching as he’d played at being a cowhand while ferreting out the rustlers, but still knew next-to-nothing about cattle. Breeding horses would suit him better if it was to come to that. At least he knew something about horses and good horseflesh, his own Virginia-bred saddle horse attesting to the fact.

  He’d paid a pretty penny for the gelding he’d named Lucky Star, for the star on his forehead and the hope the horse would be just that. Lucky, as he called him for short, had been with him for four years now and had been worth every bit of his price. It was the horse’s loyalty and even temper that had attracted him. The fact the horse was a better watchman than any dog had saved his life more than once.

  He looked cautiously around the room. With its scarred floors, hard-used furniture and stale, cigar-scented air, the place suited its gun-toting clientele. He recognized a few faces, and by the way they turned away, he figured they recognized him, too. They’d never forget or forgive what he’d done and what he’d become. He’d known it when he’d run. He should have remembered it before he came back.

  Polly was coming toward him, rounded hips sashaying, lips pouting, eyes wide. Even though nothing could change the hard look of a used woman, she still caught a man’s eye in a skimpy red dress that barely held her breasts.

  “You buying?” she said touching his arm as she sidled up next to him. When he’d first come back to town, her touch would have been all the invitation he needed. But now...

  “You want some whiskey?” Cole motioned to the barkeep without waiting for her answer. “And leave the bottle, Ted,” he advised when the burly man, who’d once funneled rotgut to his father, silently poured Polly’s drink.

  “Yes, but that wasn’t what I was hoping you were buying,” she purred, looking him up and down.

  “Not tonight, Polly.” He caught the overpowering scent of some lavender perfume she must have dumped on.

  Polly picked up the whiskey glass and touched it to her lips, tracing the rim with her tongue. Nothing. He felt nothing. Hell, if it wasn’t for the kick he got from just looking at Kate, he’d wonder if he was still a man when Polly’s blatant invitation wasn’t doing anything for him.

  “You haven’t been in my bed since you first came here. I know you liked it, Cole.” She lifted her chin before taking a sip. “You afraid of getting something? I’m clean.”

  “Business tonight.”

  Suddenly an older, gray-haired man with a day’s worth of silver stubble on his chin walked through the swinging doors. Cole nodded in his direction. “And here it comes.”

  Polly sighed as she eyed Pritchard and finished her whisk
ey. “Guess I’ll leave you to it. If he’s a mind, tell him to see me after you’re done.” She arched a brow. “And if you change your mind, you come find me, hear?” With a pat on his arm, Polly moved on to her next customer.

  Focusing on the sway of Polly’s hips, Cole called for another glass.

  The barkeep promptly obliged just as Charlie Pritchard ambled up.

  “Cole,” Charlie said as his gaze followed Polly.

  “Whiskey?” Cole poured, knowing the answer before the man spoke.

  “Ain’t you going to join me?” The old codger wiped his sweaty brow with the sleeve of his faded plaid shirt and reached for the full shot glass. He stared at Cole as if he was trying to guess the answer to some riddle.

  Cole smiled. Charlie no doubt remembered his old man. “One’s my limit.”

  Charlie downed the liquid refreshment. “Not mine,” he said as he thumped the empty glass on the counter.

  Cole refilled Charlie’s glass as the piano player started up another tune.

  “So you thinking of taking up ranching?” Charlie wrapped his fingers around the glass but didn’t pick it up.

  “Thinking.” Cole scratched the stubble on his own face, wondering how much to trust the old man.

  “Matt Tyler’s made me a good offer.”

  “So I heard. Also heard you haven’t accepted.”

  Charlie shrugged. “Maybe I don’t like selling to a man who tried to cheat me out of my water rights when he staked claim to his land.”

  Cole knew Tyler’s reputation for honest dealing wasn’t the best, but someone was rustling the man’s cattle. Someone smart. Cole hadn’t needed much more incentive to pick up some extra money.

  “You any closer to finding those rustlers? You know I’ve lost some of my beeves.” Charlie growled, flapping his sagging jowls. “I just wish people would agree to take what’s coming to them and no more. Whole world would run smoother.”

  There was a lot of wisdom in what Charlie said.

  “I’m closing in.” Cole was more than closing in. He knew where the rustlers were. Tomorrow he expected to catch them with the cattle and then he’d be moving on. What he was doing talking to Charlie Pritchard about buying the man’s ranch was beyond him. But something was pushing him to at least explore the idea, see if his dream was even possible. Something in a pretty blue dress.

  “You got a price in mind?” Cole asked.

  “Well, I’ve got Tyler’s offer. You come in higher, I’ll sell it to you.”

  “And if Tyler matched or upped my bid?” Cole had no desire to get in a bidding war with a rancher who had a bigger bank account than his. That was a good way to overpay and sink in the process.

  “I just want a fair price. So I’ll tell you what, you come in at the price I name and I swear on my mother’s grave—God rest her soul—I’ll sell it to you even if Tyler doubles the price.” Charlie finished his whiskey in one gulp.

  “Why?” Cole didn’t believe people did the unexpected without a reason.

  Charlie’s watery brown eyes peered at him through narrowed slits. “I don’t like Tyler. Or Flanders for that matter. Too big for their britches. Look down their noses at smaller ranchers like me. And I liked your mama. Wished I could have done something.” He stared at his empty glass. “Back then…well, wasn’t easy for another man to interfere between a husband and wife.”

  No one had done anything to help his mother. Or him. Cole was surprised at the slow burn of anger that still filled him at the recollection. He’d never forget no matter how hard he tried. “How much?”

  Charlie named his price. Cole absorbed the number. He could run cattle, but the first years would surely be lean ones while he built up the herd. And if he wanted to breed horses, it would take everything he had by the time he paid for the land, a good stallion, and a mare or two, and much longer to turn any sort of profit. “When do I have to let you know?”

  “Beginning of next week. No later.” Charlie stared. “You serious or just dreaming?”

  Cole shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  And that was the God’s honest truth.

  Chapter 4

  Kate felt like she had one leg in a bear trap as she gazed across the table at the dandified Jake Parrish her father had invited for dinner. Jake was the last person she wanted to deal with today, but it seemed her father was throwing him her way any chance he got.

  “I wish we could bring back the Donation Land Law,” Jake was saying as he finished his last bite of beef stew. “It’s very hard for a man to make his way now if he wants to run cattle.”

  “There is still the Homestead Act,” said her father.

  “Yes, but the act’s pitiful number of acres isn’t enough to for a decent herd. I’d have to graze my beeves on federal land without benefit of ownership.”

  “You can buy land. I hear Charlie Pritchard is selling out.”

  “And Charlie wants a princely sum. But since he’s falling on hard times what with the rustling going on, maybe he’ll come down in his offer.” Jake swiped his mouth with the napkin, almost hiding the smile on his lips.

  “Unlikely. I hear Matt Tyler has made an offer.” Her father snagged a potato from the now half-filled platter of stew.

  Jakes pupils seemed to darken in the dim light. “You don’t say. Well, Matt’s been losing a lot of cattle lately, too. And I don’t expect that outlaw he’s hired to catch the rustlers has the brains to do the job. So Matt might not be able to afford Pritchard’s land when all is said and done.” He nodded. “It’s just a pity all that federal land is lying fallow while a fellow can only get a hundred and sixty acres of it. ‘Course, a married man can get more. And even then some, depending on who he marries.” His expression as he looked at her reminded her of a panther eyeing its prey. A shiver climbed her back before he returned his attention to her father.

  While the two men debated the finer points of federal land use, she took the opportunity to study the man her father had deemed so worthy of her hand. Lizzie and several other women would have said Jake was handsome. He had the right ingredients: wavy black hair, a well-groomed mustache and beard that hid the curl of his lips when he was angry, prominent cheekbones, and a well-formed nose. But it was his eyes, dark and cold, that gave him a calculating look.

  Suave is what Lizzie would have called him. Slithery would have been Kate’s description. He was all veneer as far as she was concerned. The big question was what did that veneer cover?

  Jake was smart. Kate would give him that, considering he’d risen from nothing to a place where he commanded respect. But to her mind, he used his intelligence as a weapon to manipulate people. He’d call them suckers or fools when he succeeded in getting the best of a deal, and blamed them for having too trusting a nature when they complained. He’d acquired land rights based on other people’s misfortune that had left a sour taste in her mouth. Everyone else, including her father, praised him for having shrewd business skills. That her father wanted her to marry such a moral chameleon had caused more than its share of tension between them. Now that Cole was back, the tension was even stronger.

  “I’m afraid we are boring you, Kate.” Jake’s voice was smooth as liquid silver.

  “Quite the contrary. I am interested in politics, Mr. Parrish. I’m particularly interested in learning when one of your colleagues will again put forth a bill on the right of women to vote. And why, when you had the opportunity last October, you put saloon interests above basic human rights for half the population.”

  Parrish visibly blanched. Clearly not the topic he was expecting. Good.

  “As I’ve explained before, Kate,” he said, having recovered his equilibrium with a hard swallow, “we decided to wait until the federal government acts. Then we will comply.”

  “And the saloon interests?”

  He leaned his body, decked out in a tailored suit with a flowery embroidered vest, against the slats of the dining room chair, rested one hand upon the table, and sighed as if he was ti
red of explaining something complex to a schoolchild. She wasn’t a schoolchild. And this wasn’t complicated.

  “I never said I was worried about the saloon interests. I said that I feared that once women got the right to vote they would try to push through an agenda that would fundamentally change our way of life.”

  “Like closing down saloons?”

  He drummed the table as he studied her. “That could be one consequence, but hardly the only one.”

  “Did you ever think that, instead, women might petition to be allowed into saloons that have tried to bar them?”

  “Kate, that’s enough.” Her father frowned in disapproval. “No self-respecting woman would want to go into a saloon and you know it.”

  “And self-respecting men?”

  “Enough, I said.” Her father’s tone brooked no argument.

  Jake eased closer to the table, resting both elbows on it as he stared her down, as if trying to bring her to heel. “I promise that if a bill on women’s rights comes up again, I will consult you on it before I take the vote.” He watched her from under heavy lids, a smile slipping over his lips. “Now, would you like to go for a walk?”

  “No thank you, Mr. Parrish. As part of the womenfolk in this house, I must help clean up after our dinner.”

  Jake looked at her father as if expecting him to intercede. Though there was a frown of disapproval on his face, Will Flanders did not say a word in response.

  “Then I best be taking my leave,” Jake said somewhat reluctantly. “There is always business to attend to when you’re a member of the Territorial Legislature.” She could have sworn he puffed out his chest.

  With that, he rose. Kate and her father joined him. She just wanted him gone. Out of her life, out of her way. There was something about him that made her stomach turn.

  He plopped his hat onto his head and tipped the brim. “I look forward to hearing your thoughts, Kate. All of them.”