Chelsea smiled. "I like to think so."
They both laughed, and Taylor thought she felt more relaxed than she had in ages.
"Actually, Taylor, I don't think your inability to trust is an unusual reaction to the kind of betrayal you felt your parents had dealt you. And that therapist should be in prison for what he did. It's amazing you don't have more problems than just this."
"So what should I do?"
Chelsea tilted her head. "Not to sound biased, but Wes is as honest as the day is long, Taylor. If there's something you want to know about him, just ask him."
"But he might think I don't trust him."
"Well, you don't. You can't just yet, because of what you've been through. Be honest with him about that. That kind of trust is something that has to be nurtured and it will grow over time. I guarantee it."
"I still think he's keeping something from me."
Chelsea frowned. "I can't imagine what. You said he told you about his prison time. That's been a thorn in his side for a long time, I can tell you that. But he's been different since you've been around. Calmer. More serene or something. Actually he's been steadily getting over his rotten temper for even longer. I think that old Indian who befriended him has a lot to do with that." She sipped her coffee. "Of course, Wes thinks the rest of us don't know about that. But he'll tell us, when he's ready. Why don't you tell me what you think it is? I can see in your eyes there's something."
Sighing, Taylor lowered her head. "You'll think I'm horrible just for asking."
Chelsea laughed, bringing Taylor's gaze sharply back to her. "Honey, when I met Garrett, I punched him in the face and accused him of murdering my sister. You got nothing on me. Now spill."
"You didn't."
Chelsea nodded.
Taylor took a deep breath. "Some of the students heard a rumor in town that Wes had killed a man a year ago, with a knife. And I've seen that bowie he carries in his boot." There. It was out. She studied Chelsea's face, but there was no shocked reaction. No outrage. No righteous indignation.
"Oh, hell, that can't be the big secret you think he's keeping. Listen, I was there."
"So was I," a deep voice said. Taylor stiffened and turned to see a man she'd never met before, whipcord lean and handsome, carrying a pudgy baby girl with dark swirls of hair and huge blue eyes. He had to be Lash, Jessi's husband. He held up one hand. "Didn't mean to barge in. Honest. And I just came in this minute, all I heard was what you two just said. Scout's honor."
Chelsea smiled and shook her head. "I gotta get an office or something. Lash, meet—"
"Taylor McCoy," Lash said. "I'd know her anywhere. Jessi's done nothing but talk about the beautiful woman who's got her hotheaded brother acting like a pussycat." He smiled, his brown eyes warm. "Now that I've seen her, I think I understand how such a miracle could come about."
Taylor sat still, not sure what to say or how to act.
"I'm assuming this was a private conversation. Look, I won't repeat a word, but as long as I'm here, can I tell you about that day, Taylor?"
Taylor opened her mouth, closed it again, nodded once.
"Good." He came inside and settled the baby in her cradle and handed her a rattle. "Maria-Michele, you be good while Dad gets Uncle Wes outta hot water, okay?"
The baby gurgled and cooed in response to her father's voice, and Lash ran a hand over her curls before turning to join them at the table.
"Lash can give you a better version of events than I can anyway," Chelsea said. "See, I was busy being held at gunpoint by the man who killed my sister. And Garrett was trying to get to me in time to save my life."
Before Taylor could choke out her surprise, Lash went on. "Right. But the maniac had snipers lined up to take Garrett out. Wes and the rest of us were trying to remove them from the equation. Now, Jessi had just tackled one guy when—"
"Jessi?" Taylor gaped, wide-eyed.
"Oh, yeah. She's a hellion when someone she loves is at stake. Hell, that's why I take little Maria in for her shots. I'm afraid Jessi would punch out the doc for pricking her." He grinned and winked. "Anyway, she took one guy out, and I turned to see another one lifting his rifle and taking aim at Garrett. I couldn't get to the guy in time, and Garrett didn't even know he was there. Wes spotted him, though, pulled his knife and threw it just as the guy's gun went off."
Taylor looked from Lash to Chelsea and back again.
Chelsea said, "If Wes hadn't done what he did, my husband would be dead right now. Even the FBI agreed no charges should be filed against Wes. He just did what he had to do to save his brother's life."
Taylor lowered her head and shook it slowly. "I feel so horrible for thinking … even for a minute…"
"Hey, Wes is no angel," Lash said. "But he's a decent guy—"
"But, Taylor, if you're sure he's keeping something from you, it's obvious this isn't it. He'd tell you all of this just as readily as we would. It's not a secret. The whole town knows about it." Chelsea shook her head. "So if he is keeping something hidden, it must be something even we don't know about."
The front door opened, and Jessi came in, made a straight line for her husband and ended up wrapped tight in his arms. They kissed like lovers. And when he released her he said, "I was just telling Taylor that she ought to come by for dinner sometime."
Jessi grinned. "Oh, she will. I've got a feeling we're gonna be seeing a lot of her. If my brother has half a brain, anyway."
Taylor lowered her chin to hide the way her cheeks heated. "Thanks for that, Jessi."
"Stick around for a while?" Jessi asked. "You can help me feed Maria her lunch. I might even make you a sandwich." She winked. "I want to get to know you better, make sure you're up to the Brand-family standards and all that."
"Watch it, Taylor," Chelsea said. "Once she decided I passed muster, she wouldn't let me leave until I married into the family."
Taylor smiled. "I think I like you people," she said. "I'll stay if I get to hold the baby."
Taylor was thoroughly disgusted with herself for thinking there was even a slight chance the things Kelly and Scourge had told her about Wes were true. She must be sicker than she thought to mistrust a man like him. He was honest. And kind. And with a family like the one he had, how could he be anything else? No, the more she thought about it, the more certain she was that Wes wasn't keeping any secrets. And that meant the problem was all hers, and by God, she was going to deal with it this time. Get over this habit of being so suspicious.
Because he meant something to her. He meant … a whole lot to her.
And maybe, just maybe, this lingering attraction she still felt for Wolf Shadow was just one more way she was subconsciously trying to sabotage her own happiness. It was probably all some very deep psychological thing that she couldn't untangle alone. But she would. Chelsea would help her.
She came back to camp feeling guilty, but determined not to wrong Wes with her suspicious mind again. And then she remembered the medallion she'd uncovered yesterday. She hadn't cataloged it yet, because she'd wanted to show it to him. And now would be the perfect time. It was the least she could do to make up for the rotten things she'd been thinking.
She got the turquoise eye from her tent, emerged and scanned the area, but saw no sign of him. The kids were doing paperwork in the shade, and she knew they'd attack the actual digging again in a short while when the sun wasn't beating down quite so fiercely. But Wes wasn't with them. Shrugging, she headed to his tent. The flap was unzipped, so she pushed it aside and stepped in.
No Wes. She felt a rush of disappointment, but told herself she shouldn't expect the man to be here at her beck and call at any given moment of the day or night. She turned to leave, tripped on the tent flap and caught herself before she fell, but the medallion flew from her hands, landing in a muddy bit of dirt directly in front of Wes's tent.
"Damn!" Taylor knelt, snatching it up, checking it quickly for damage and scowling at the mud all over its surface. She ducked quickly back
into Wes's tent, searching for something to wipe the pendant clean, and spotted a washbasin in the corner, with a cloth tossed inside it. Snatching the cloth up, she carefully wiped the bits of dirt and mud from the pendant, sighing in relief when it seemed to be unharmed by her clumsiness.
But then she frowned, because the cloth left a streak of yellow on the stone. What the hell…?
Taylor rubbed the stain off with her thumb, then shook the washcloth out and stared at the odd blotches of color smeared all over it. It looked like…
She blinked in shock. It looked like the paint Wolf Shadow wore on his face. It looked like…
"No." She slapped the cloth back into its basin and backed away from it as if it could infect her. "It's my cynical brain working overtime again. He couldn't be…"
But what else would explain this? It isn't like he's been painting in here. It isn't Halloween. He's not an actor. So why's he got bright-colored stains all over his washcloth?
But what sense did it make to think Wes had been the man behind the makeup? Why would he want to scare her away?
God, had it been Wes she'd very nearly made love to in that quiet glade? Have I been feeling guilty for being attracted to two men, who are really one and the same?
Taylor pressed a hand to her suddenly throbbing forehead. This was ridiculous! How was she supposed to know when she was using her common sense and seeing the obvious, and when she was letting past betrayals make her unduly suspicious? And how the hell was she going to find out for sure which was the case this time?
But how could she doubt it, when the proof was right before her eyes? She recalled Wes's words to her the night before, the way they'd sounded so much like Wolf Shadow's. And his kiss … and the way his touch fired her body to life just the way…
Was it true? Oh, God, he had lied to her. She'd let herself trust him, and he'd lied. The pain that twisted her insides was nearly unbearable, and tears burned hot paths down her face.
But what if … what if there was the slightest chance she might be wrong? How could she be sure?
It came to her slowly, but it came.
She had to see Wolf Shadow again.
And when she did, she'd look into his eyes and she would know. She couldn't look into Wes's eyes and not know him, not after all this.
God help him if he'd been deceiving her all this time.
And God help her.
* * *
Chapter 9
« ^ »
Wes had bundled up all his Wolf Shadow paraphernalia and got it the hell away from the site. It had been tucked in that cave near the pond, but that was far too close for comfort. Under his bed, back at the ranch was the best he could do for now. And there it would stay, until he could find time to toss it into a bonfire, at least. He didn't want to risk what he had going with Taylor. And he wasn't going to. She'd never find out the truth. And now there was nothing standing in the way. He was going to wine that woman and dine that woman until she melted in his arms; that was what he was going to do.
A finger of guilt tickled at the back of his neck. He knew he ought to just tell her. Just come clean and have it over with. Hell, she'd probably react to just about anything better than she'd react to being lied to.
But what if he told her, and lost her?
Maybe he should wait. Tell her later, after they were on more solid ground. Maybe if she … if she…
He was a rat. He never should have started all this. But he'd make it up to her. He'd sweep her off her feet. He'd make her see that it didn't matter, that what was growing between them was more important than any stupid mistake he'd made. And he'd start tonight.
He was practically rubbing his hands together in anticipation as he traipsed up over the slight incline and headed overland to Emerald Flat that evening wearing his newest pair of Wrangler jeans and his best boots.
She was sitting near a campfire. Seemed she'd taken a liking to campfires since he'd built one the other night. She—or somebody—had built another in the same spot, though it wasn't even dark yet. And Taylor sat on a seasoned log and stared unseeingly into the flames. She looked worried.
He aimed himself in her direction, only to be stopped by a scrawny hand on his shoulder, and turned to see the hairball looking at him with what he probably thought was a mean look on his face. From Wes's point of view, it looked more like indigestion, but he didn't think that was the kid's intent.
Wes stopped, glanced down at the hand on his shoulder and narrowed his eyes. The hand fell away. Wes turned his gaze on the kid. "You got something you need to say to me, son?"
"I'm not your son, mister."
"You got that right," Wes said. "No son of mine would be traipsing around with an earring in his nose, unless he wanted it replaced with a bull ring." Wes started to walk past him. The hand landed on his shoulder again.
"You know, Stanley, you keep sticking that hand where it don't belong, you're liable to lose it."
The kid flinched at Wes's use of his given name, rather than his nickname. "I want to talk to you," he blurted, but the hand fell to his side again.
Wes's temper bubbled up a little. But he managed to keep it to a simmer. The doc seemed to like Scourge, and Wes wasn't about to mess things up with her over the punk. "So what's on your mind?"
"Ms. McCoy."
Wes grinned a little. "Well, forget it. I got there first."
"I'm serious here, Brand. You better watch your step with her."
The simmer changed to a boil. "And just why is that?"
"'Cause I don't want to see her getting hurt, that's why. And I'm not gonna stand by and watch you keep jerking her around the way you've been doing."
Jerking her around? "Kid, I'm restraining the urge to kick your skinny ass for you here. But maybe it'd be nice if you'd tell me what the hell you're talking about now, while you're still able, just in case."
The kid swallowed hard, but lifted his chin. "She's been sitting there like that for over an hour. And I think she was crying earlier, in her tent. And she doesn't deserve…"
Wes swung his gaze to Taylor, shoved the kid aside and strode up to her, suddenly feeling the cold fingers of panic poking him in the gut. "Doc?"
She blinked and looked up at him. And damned if it didn't look as if maybe she had shed a tear or two today. She worked up a welcoming smile for him, but it was about as steady as a hummingbird in a hurricane. He dropped down on one knee in front of her, searched her face. "Taylor, what's wrong?"
She sniffed, shook her head. But when she met his eyes, there was something there that scared the life out of him. "I hope you won't hate me for this," she said.
"Not a chance, lady." He clasped both her hands in his. They were cold, trembling. "Come on, tell me what's wrong. It's not going to be as bad as you think."
She closed her eyes. "You won't say that after you hear what it is."
Wes went stiff. God, was she going to tell him to take a walk? That she didn't want to see him anymore? That she'd changed her mind?
She lifted a hand, stroked his face. "I can't go on with this relationship," she said softly, tears brimming in her beautiful eyes. "Not until I…" Biting her lower lip, she shook her head.
"Not until you what, Taylor? Damn, don't leave me hanging this way." His heart had already dropped to the vicinity of his stomach. He was sorely afraid she was about to drop a boulder on top of it.
"Not until I see him again."
"Him?"
She took a deep breath, lifted her chin. "Wolf Shadow."
Wes blinked and managed not to let his jaw hit the ground when it fell.
"Wes, what I feel for you is … is so powerful, so intense. But … but you deserve more."
"I didn't ask for more," he said. "Taylor, you don't have to—"
"Yes, I do. Wes, I have to see him one more time. I have to prove to myself that whatever odd attraction he stirred in me is dead now that we're … together. For my own peace of mind, Wes. Can you understand that?"
He loo
ked at the toes of his boots, shook his head.
"No," he said softly. "No, ma'am, I sure don't understand."
"I'm sorry, Wes. I think … I think this will be good for us. Once I put him behind me … I'll be free of him forever. And there won't be anything in the way of you and me."
"It doesn't make any sense to me," he said, staring into her eyes, a plea in his own.
"Lord forgive me if I'm wrong," she muttered.
"Taylor?"
"Please, Wes. Just give me some time. I need time to think and to sort out my feelings. And seeing him will be all the verification I need. I can't commit to you the way I think I want to until I prove to myself that I can live up to that commitment. Be as faithful as you deserve me to be. I have to see him, calmly tell him that it's you I want. If I can do that, then I'll know I'm okay."
He let his chin fall to his chest, sighing in resignation. "If you have to, you have to."
She nodded. "Maybe … since there's no way of telling when I'll see him again … or even if I will—"
"Oh, you will." He clamped his mouth shut after he said it.
"But who knows when? I think it might be easier if you moved back to the ranch until—"
"Forget it. I'm not leaving so that bastard can waltz in here and—" Wes stopped talking, replayed what he'd just said in his mind and frowned. Damn. "I'm losing my freaking mind here."
He turned and went into his tent, angry and hurt and jealous as all hell. Of himself.
Wes strode into the house that night without a word to anyone, heading straight up the stairs to his room. He felt the eyes on him. Garrett's curious gaze, and Chelsea's concerned one. But neither spoke, and maybe they sensed the turmoil going on inside him.
He couldn't believe it had come to this. That Taylor felt she had to see Wolf Shadow. It gnawed at him, and he couldn't shake the idea that maybe she preferred his alter ego to him. That maybe it was that legendary ghost she really wanted, and had been him all along. And it was stupid to feel that way; he knew that. But dammit, if she were so determined to see Wolf Shadow again, then he had no choice but to don the costume one last time.
Maggie Shayne - Badland's Bad Boy Page 11
