Cutter’s whistling pierced her thoughts, and again she concentrated on that bath—that warm, cleansing bath.
Her father, too, had believed in cleanliness, and she was thoroughly convinced, though there was no real medical evidence to substantiate the claim, that cleanliness was an integral part of any cure. She always cleaned her instruments in strong water. Truth to tell, it was the only thing whiskey was good for—besides getting decent folks into trouble.
This morning was a very good example for the record.
She surveyed the landscape, fretting. Nothing! Nothing at all seemed familiar to her! Surely she’d made enough house calls outside of town that she should know the area by now? But to her dismay, she found that she didn’t recognize a single thing. Not one thing!
Of course, she reminded herself, worrying at her lower lip, it was hard to see much for the tall grass. Grassland was grassland, after all, and there wasn’t much different about any one stretch of it to distinguish it from the next. Right?
Yes, of course, that was what it was. She nodded, as though to settle her fears. And so it was a complete shock to find herself suddenly staring at a gathering of blurry, nondescript, and very unfamiliar buildings in the immediate distance. Her first reaction was to reach for her spectacles. Finding them gone was her undoing. Her eyes widened in alarm. How could she have been so absorbed in her thoughts that she wouldn’t have noticed her spectacles were missing? Halting abruptly, she whirled to face Cutter, hands on her hips.
“Where are they?”
Cutter came up beside her, his brow lifting in response to her question. “Where’s what?”
“My spectacles!”
“Took you long enough to notice they were gone, don’t y’ think?”
Elizabeth ignored his goading. What business was it of his anyway? She turned her palm up impatiently, certain that Cutter had her spectacles somewhere on his person, and silently pleading with him to give them back.
There was an odd glitter in his eyes as he stared at her hand. Then his gaze flicked up to her eyes, considering her. They were so dark, and fixed on her so intently, that for an interminable moment Elizabeth felt as though he were looking straight into her soul, searching out every dark corner to reveal it.
Feeling unsure of herself, she withdrew her hand slightly. The moment was excruciating. She felt utterly bared to his scrutiny, as though he knew all of her secrets somehow, every fear, every last little ache in her heart. More than that even, she once again had the notion the man pitied her, and a strange pang nearly overcame her outrage. Nearly.
A quiver passed down her spine, breaking the spell. “Well?” she asked. Unnerved, she watched as he turned from her finally and reached into the saddlebag, retrieving her bent frames. Without speaking, she accepted them from him, quickly placed them upon the bridge of her nose, then turned back to the cluster of buildings in the distance, fully expecting them to have reconfigured themselves somehow. The images only became sharper, more distinct, and her shock was audible. She gave a startled little cry.
She pointed at the buildings. “What is that?”
Cutter lifted the brim of his hat slightly, his brows rising as he peered speculatively at the structures in question. “Why,” he drawled with distinct mockery, his gaze immediately reverting to hers, “can’t be too sure, Miz Bowcock, but seems to be a town.” His mouth lifted slightly at the corners, yet lift it did, and Elizabeth had suddenly reached her breaking point.
“Not Sioux Falls, it isn’t!”
“Never said it was.”
“But you… you did say… and I-I thought…” Torn between anger and embarrassment, she groaned, and her cheeks began to heat again. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” she cried out in frustration. “Why didn’t you say something? You knew I was walking in the wrong direction!”
To her alarm, he began to chuckle, and then to laugh outright, and suddenly Elizabeth couldn’t help herself. She flung herself at him, snatching him by the arm and yanking downward with all her might.
Never had anyone infuriated her so!
To her discredit, he barely budged from the saddle. Instead, with his free arm he clutched at his side, hooting all the louder as she pulled in vain on his other arm. Crying out in frustration, Elizabeth pounded his thigh.
His laughter slowing to chuckles, Cutter tried to seize Elizabeth’s wrists, to save his leg from any more injury. But in her fury, Elizabeth was quicker, and he took two cuffs on the hand he’d held out as a buffer.
Without warning, she found herself hoisted from the ground, onto his mount. One arm imprisoned her while he simply sat there and laughed into her flyaway mass of hair—another thing she hadn’t noticed! Just how had her hair managed to come loose from its braid? Though as soon as she considered it, she knew, and her cheeks burned brighter at the very thought of the liberties he had taken with her. Good night! What else might he have done without her knowledge? And how dare he make fun of her! She wiggled, to no avail, trying for the second time in the same day to free herself from his merciless hold.
“Heathen savage!” she accused him, mindless with fury now. With her hands trapped by his embrace, she had no alternative but to use her teeth to gain her freedom. She lunged at his neck, like a viper, but the shock of his warm male flesh on her tongue made her suddenly bolt backward in alarm. Or maybe it was Cutter’s quick reaction that pulled her away from him. Elizabeth wasn’t quite certain. All she knew was that he tasted of salt, smelled purely of man, a scent so mind-jarring that her body quickened wildly in response. It startled her so much that she simply sat, staring at him in utter bewilderment.
As he heard the words Elizabeth flung at him, Cutter’s mirth ceased abruptly, and his eyes narrowed upon the mouth that had nearly taken a chunk from his neck.
Foremost in his mind was the brief kiss he had stolen the night before. And then his mind focused on that key word.
Stolen.
She’d never have given it freely. He made the mistake of looking up, into her eyes, and a familiar twisting began in his gut. Elizabeth was looking at him, through spectacles aslant, as though he were a two-headed rodent. He’d felt the stab of prejudice many times before, but that she should stoop to flinging insults caused long-buried scars to rip and burn. His anger flared.
Why had he thought she would be any different? How could he have allowed himself to forget? Because she was Jo’s friend? He damned well should have known better. And it shouldn’t bother him. But it did. Because for the first time in a long time, he’d allowed himself to forget, to feel easy with someone. He’d let down his guard.
His mistake, but he wouldn’t make it again.
“I wouldn’t try that again,” Cutter warned. A chill hung on the edge of his words, and his eyes held hers “As it is, you’re damned lucky you’re a woman.” Despite his outward calm, there was the threat of violence in his voice.
Faced with his anger, Elizabeth looked suddenly ashamed of her childish outburst. “Just how far have we come?” she asked grudgingly, straightening her spectacles.
For the longest moment, Cutter couldn’t bring himself to respond to her simple question.
He oughta turn back now and take her high-minded self back to Sioux Falls. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. In spite of his anger, he just couldn’t, and his displeasure over the fact burned in his gut.
“Like I said before, too far to turn back. If I’m not mistaken, that’s Indian Creek up ahead. You can come along with me, or run back home with your tail tucked between your pretty little legs. Either way, it’s your decision, but if you choose to go home, you go it alone.”
The change in his demeanor was frightening.
Gone was the imperturbable cad. In his place was someone else entirely. The other provoked her, infuriated her, but she’d never hesitated to respond in kind. This man, she was unsure of. Still, she reminded herself, he was Jo’s brother. Jo wouldn’t have let harm come her way—not even by way of her baby brother
.
“How do I know what you intend, Mr. McKenzie? You might be a raving lunatic, or bent on murder, for that matter.”
His dark, enigmatic eyes revealed nothing. He nodded slowly, lips thin with displeasure. His hand held her arm, squeezing firmly but painlessly. “True enough. But don’t you think that if I’d aimed to do you harm, Doc… I’d have done it long before now?”
His silky tone mesmerized her. Unable to tear her gaze away, she swallowed, opening her mouth to speak, but he shook her suddenly, startling the words from her tongue.
“Look,” Cutter said, before she could gather her thoughts. “You don’t know me all that well, that’s true enough, but I’m willing to help you for nothing—Christ knows why! You can’t say the same for someone else,” he said bluntly. “You can’t even count on help for pay, because who’s to stop them from taking your money and tossing up your skirts, just for the hell of it? Maybe even putting a knife between your pretty little shoulder blades, at that—to guarantee your silence?”
His intent was to tell her the brutal truth—all of it—even if it spooked her.
To Cutter’s way of thinking, Elizabeth needed a little dose of fear to make her understand this wasn’t a Sunday picnic she was planning.
Her eyes went wide as his grip tightened upon her arm. She fidgeted, trying to ease his hold, but he never gave an inch.
“Stop… please—stop!” she cried out. “You’re hurting me!”
“Good. Am I frightening you, too? Sure as hell hope so!” His free hand found its way into her tousled hair, his fingers curling around the back of her neck to secure her as he finally released her arm. He touched a loose tendril, examining it, then winding it carefully about his finger. His eyes glinted dangerously. “Because I’d hate to see this—” he tugged at it softly, bringing her closer, so that their lips were separated only by a whisper “—dangling from a scalp belt.”
Forcing her attention away from his lips, Elizabeth grimaced, meeting his angry gaze.
“And you don’t take scalps?” she asked with more calm than she felt, and then she shriveled suddenly as an odd look passed over his features—pain, if she didn’t know better—before his jaw turned taut and his eyes grew harsh.
He released her abruptly, and she nearly fell off the horse. She had to reach out and catch his shirt to steady herself, but his gaze never wavered. His expression was cold and proud.
“I’m riding into that town,” he said, his voice soft but daunting. “And you’re coming with me, Doc. You take tonight to think about whether you’re wantin’ my services or not.” His eyes were black, sparkling with fury. “Then… bright ’n’ early tomorrow mornin’, I’ll expect your answer. It’s up to you. I don’t aim to force you, Lizbeth—or beg, either. It’s purely your decision.” He leaned backward, reaching into the saddlebags, groping blindly, never taking his eyes from hers as he brought up a small pouch and pressed it into her hand.
No sooner had she accepted it when he lifted her, turning her around to face away from him. Too stunned to speak, she explored the pouch with her fingers without opening it. Coins. He’d given her money.
“I can’t accept it,” she told him.
“Take it up with Jo,” he said. And then, reaching over her, he gathered up the reins, leaning briefly against her back. She flinched, sensing his anger in every rigid plane of his chest.
“If in the morning my answer is still no?” she prompted, her shoulders lifting slightly, her expression wary.
He leaned closer, his lips brushing the top of her ear as he spoke, his tone lacking in emotion. “Then I’ve said all on the matter I aim to. If you don’t have the good sense to say yes, Miz Bowcock… I don’t care to see you again. Use the money Jo gave you to buy yourself a ticket home.” Having said that, he touched his spurs to his horse, and it lunged forward.
Elizabeth’s hand swept out to catch her spectacles as she was hurled back into Cutter’s chest. She cried out at the impact. Cutter, on the other hand, never so much as grunted as his body absorbed the blow without yielding an inch.
CHAPTER SIX
It had been hours now since Elizabeth had finished her bath and put out the lamp, but still she was unable to fall asleep. Her poor eyes felt strained from long hours of trying to keep them shut. With a groan, she pressed her fingers to her lids, massaging them gently.
Why couldn’t she go to sleep?
She wanted to… desperately. And she’d tried absolutely everything, from regulating her breathing to conjuring dreams, but always her thoughts returned to Cutter.
Certainly it wasn’t that she was waiting to hear his footsteps pass her door on the way to his room. She wouldn’t hear them anyway, she thought irately. The man was so agile on his feet. Really, he was probably already fast asleep next door, dreaming peacefully, without the least thought for her.
How dare he invade her thoughts so thoroughly!
They’d ridden into town, neither of them having spoken another word, and had gone directly to the only hotel Indian Creek had to offer. Cutter had remained long enough to procure for them two of the only three rooms available, then had left her completely to herself.
Where he’d gone to, Elizabeth didn’t know, but she’d not seen him again, regardless that the town was so small as to be virtually nonexistent. From what she’d been able to tell, Indian Creek consisted of but a small hotel, a bank, three saloons—three, mind you; not one, not two, but three!—a general store, selling everything from boots to bacon, which also doubled as a post office, and a small livery. She’d purchased a pair of men’s denims at the general store, only because that was her only choice. It didn’t matter, because nobody but Cutter would see her anyway.
She’d not come across a physician’s office, or a drugstore, and she had to wonder what the townspeople did, if anything, for medical aid. All in all, Indian Creek was less than impressive, and it was no wonder she’d never heard of it before now, despite the fact that it wasn’t so very far away from Sioux Falls.
She hadn’t dared to go out for long, but because it had been so early in the morning when they’d arrived, she couldn’t very well have simply shut herself up in the stale-smelling room she now occupied. The first thing she’d done was to ferret out a meal, which she’d then consumed with all the finesse of a ravenous wolf. Once her hunger was appeased, things hadn’t seemed quite so bleak, and she’d spent the remainder of the day patronizing the meager shop.
She’d purchased the men’s britches, justifying it with the fact that her skirt was torn. Besides that, she told herself, her cumbersome skirt would be too unmanageable on horseback. And then she’d bought a few other necessaries… until finally it had dawned on her that she’d already made up her mind, purchasing items for the journey as she was. While her conscious mind had been cursing the man to perdition, her unconscious had long since decided to accept his offer.
Little sense that made.
And that brought her to another question entirely. Why had Cutter offered his assistance in the first place? What were his motives? He’d said that he’d done so for his sister. But that in itself didn’t quite make sense.
Her brow furrowed softly. Cutter McKenzie was all wrong for the position. Nothing had changed. He still wouldn’t do as a husband. And yet… he’d made plenty of sense this morning. Who else could she trust? It wasn’t a matter of choice; she needed, more than anything else, to get and raise her sister’s precious little girl. She loved helping others. It gave her such a warm feeling inside, and that was why she’d wanted so desperately to become a physician, but something elemental was missing from her life… something that left her empty and aching during the lonely hours. What it was, she couldn’t say, but like a beacon in the night, her niece drew her.
To her dismay, so did Cutter.
I’d have noticed you.
His silky whisper came back to haunt her. Would he have? she wondered.
But did it really matter?
No! she berated herself
, shutting out his voice.
With a frustrated jerk of the thin coverlet, she turned to glare at the door. She’d intended to tell Cutter tonight that she’d accepted his proposal… so they could get an early start in the morning. But at this rate, she wasn’t even going to be able to open her own eyes before noon—blasted man!
At last, footfalls sounded just outside the door, stopping just beyond it, and without thinking, Elizabeth tossed the covers aside and leapt out of bed, forgetting her spectacles in her haste. Within seconds, she had her ear pressed to the door. The voices were muffled, but she could still make out Cutter’s unmistakable drawl.
“Sorry, sweetbritches… not up to snuff tonight… Here, take this…”
Elizabeth bit her lower lip, trying to comprehend what it was that she was hearing.
“Course ya are, Cutter, honey,” came a sultry female voice. “And I know just the thing,” the woman purred. “Don’t want your money… keep it… this one’s… on me.” There was a deep, tortured moan, and a thump, as something or someone fell against the door.
Her door! They didn’t even have the decency to fall against Cutter’s door! It had to be hers, didn’t it?
“There now… see how easy that was?” the hussy said.
“Now, Bess… Bess. Aww hell, Bess… ” Cutter ended his complaint with a moan, the sound low and tortured.
Her heart beating like a tom-tom and her mind reeling, Elizabeth pressed her ear closer to the door. Hearing nothing more, she stooped down frantically to peer through the tiny keyhole. She knew it was wrong to spy, but she couldn’t keep herself from it. In the darkness, she could see nothing, and it frustrated her.
But, oh, she could hear them well enough—scuffling noisily against her door!
Sagebrush Bride Page 7
