Shades of a Desperado

by Sharon Sala

  “Boone?” Her eyes grew round. Her voice started to shake.

  “Why...? How?” Helpless to say more, she waited for him to explain.

  Tenderly he brushed the long black tangles of her hair from her face and ran his thumb lightly near a scratch on her chin, catching the small streak of blood running down before it dripped on her gown.

  “You were out on the mountain. I almost hit you with my truck.”

  “Oh, my God,” Rachel groaned, and hid her face in her hands.

  “You need to get into something warm and dry. Will you let me help you?”

  Only after he remarked on her condition did she begin to feel the cold. She shivered, then dropped her hands in her lap and looked up.

  “Well?” he persisted.

  “I have a robe in the bathroom. If you’ll just give me a minute...”

  Boone stood up and stepped away, but when she put her feet on the floor, she winced and dropped back onto the bed. He followed her descent. Back on his knees, he saw the deep, ugly gash in the arch of one foot.

  “Damn, Rachel, you need to see a doctor.”

  “No!” she said, clutching at his arm as he reached for the phone.

  “Why not?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Rachel?”

  She turned away

  He cupped her face, forcing her to look back at him.

  “Talk to me, woman. Why not?”

  To his surprise, she seemed angry. “Because then I’d have to explain how it happened, and I don’t have an explanation to give.”

  It didn’t make sense. When he saw her, he would have sworn that she’d also seen him. After all, she’d been running toward him with her eyes wide open.

  “So, you’re telling me you don’t remember what happened.”

  Her expression darkened. “That’s what I said.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so persistent.” He laid his hand on her knee, waiting until she looked back at him.

  “It’s happened before, hasn’t it? That first time I saw you, in the creek, you were talking to someone who wasn’t there.”

  She bit her lip.

  Fear for her, coupled with a frustration he couldn’t deny, sharpened his voice. “What, Rachel? Talk to me, damn it!”

  This time her anger was real. “And say what, Boone? That I guess I’m losing my mind? Don’t think it hasn’t already occurred to me.”

  Regretting the way he’d raised his voice, he tried to smooth things over, but her temper had already been lit, like a short, burning fuse.

  “I go to bed. I close my eyes. I sleep. But I don’t always wake up in my bed!” The more she talked, the faster the words came, often harsh, sometimes shrill, as if she were on the brink of breaking down. “Sometimes I wake up standing in water. Sometimes I’m facedown in the dirt. It happens. I don’t know why. I can’t control it.” Then she swayed and once again covered her face with her hands. “Oh, God... I can’t control it.”

  “Damn.”

  It was all he could say. With a groan, he went from his knees to her side, then lifted her in his arms and set her down in his Jap, holding her close Until her shaking had stepped. felt like a thief, absorbing his strength to replace

  Rachel felt like a thief, absorbing his strength to replace her own. For some reason, she wanted to explain how destructive these episodes had become.

  “I took a leave of absence from work.”

  Boone held her just that little bit tighter. “I noticed you’ve been gone. Figured you’d gone to visit your folks or something.”

  “No, I was on a...trip. My parents are dead. Have been for several years.”

  “Sorry.”

  She sighed. “Me too.”

  “Are you okay now?”

  “Yes, just help me to the bathroom, will you? There’s some peroxide in the medicine chest I can use on my foot.”

  The fluorescent lights were unkind to the damage she’d done to herself. In the bright white light, all was revealed, from the scratches on her face to the rip in her gown. Even more, her womanly shape was too easy to see beneath the soft white flannel.

  Desire for more than her smile made Boone’s hand shake as he held her foot over the edge of the tub. Following her instructions, he poured antiseptic on the wound, then applied a bandage. He gave her another long look as he put away the supplies.

  “Now what?”

  She almost blushed. “If you’ll give me a minute...”

  He walked out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He clenched his hands as he stared around Rachel’s room. The essence of her was everywhere, from a lacy slip hanging on a hook on the closet door to the tumbled covers of the bed she’d been sleeping in. He stared at the sheets and the pillow still bearing the indentation of her head until something inside him snapped. Gritting his teeth, he stalked out of the room. Not only bad he reached the limit of his self-denial, he was pretty sure he’d passed it.

  When Rachel came out, she was alone. Surprised, she stood for a moment, listening to the quiet in her small frame house. And then a pot banged somewhere down the hall. He was in the kitchen and, from the sounds of it, trying to cook something. Probably for her. She smiled to herself. For a bad boy, he had a remarkable bedside manner.

  As she hobbled to the kitchen, it never once crossed her mind to thank him kindly and send him packing. Somewhere between the time she went to bed and the moment when she returned to consciousness in his arms, she’d come to terms with the fact that her life and Boone MacDonald’s were somehow intertwined.

  Even though she made no sound, Boone seemed to know he was no longer alone. When he turned, she was staring at him from the doorway. She’d gone from the white gown to a pink one with a robe to match. He didn’t know whether to stand his ground or run for cover. Either way, he’d lost the last of his control. For better or worse, it was a given fact that he loved her.

  Have mercy, he thought. “Feeling better?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Yes, thanks.”

  “I’m making coffee.”

  She pointed. “Works better when it’s plugged in.”

  He looked down. “Well, damn,” he muttered, and shoved the plug into the outlet.

  “Boone.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Thank you.”

  He could see her out of the corner of his eye. All it would take was a couple of steps and she could be in his arms. He didn’t move.

  “You’re welcome.”

  To his relief, the coffee started to brew.

  She didn’t budge from the doorway, continuing to stare at him for long, agonizing minutes, until Boone felt ready to explode. Finally he gave her an angry glare and pointed toward the table and chairs.

  “Either sit the hell down or suffer the consequences.”

  She sat.

  He poured coffee and joined her.

  Another minute passed while she blew on her cup and Boone gulped from his. Silence grew. And grew. And grew. It was Boone who broke first.

  “If you don’t need me anymore, I’m out of here,” he said, disregarding the fact that he sounded rude. But his patience had long since run its course, and desire for this woman was eating him alive.

  Need you? I think I’ll always need you, Rachel thought, and then it scared her so much that she didn’t argue when he stood up to leave.

  “Are you finished?” he asked, pointing to her half-empty cup.

  Rachel nodded and shoved it aside. But before she could help herself up, he once again lifted her into his arms, then paused, giving her a look she was afraid to believe.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, and hated the nervous tremor she heard in her own voice. It wouldn’t do to let him know she was scared.

  “Tucking you into bed?”

  It was the hesitation in his voice that gave her comfort. If she wasn’t the only one unsure about the ground on which they were standing, then it helped to balance the confusion she was feeling.
There was a tinge of despair in her voice as he carried her down the hall. “Maybe you should just tie me down while you’re at it. I’m not real good at staying tucked.”

  He grinned, and once again Rachel was reminded that this was no altar boy she was messing with. The smile on his face was pure devil, the glitter in his eyes far too bright for her peace of mind.

  To her relief, he kept quiet until he was in the act of pulling up her covers. At that point, he reached out and traced the arch of her upper lip with the tip of his finger.

  “The last time I tied a woman up in bed, it was not with the intention of putting her to sleep.”

  Rachel gasped. The image was too vivid to ignore.

  Desire for her was so strong that Boone couldn’t deny himself any longer. Before he could talk himself out of the deed, he bent down.

  She tasted better than he’d dreamed. Soft, slightly surprised lips parted beneath his demand. He groaned, and she sighed, and the pressure increased. At the point of lying down beside her, he drew back, his nostrils flaring, his eyes dark and wild with unfulfilled need.

  “Don’t expect me to apologize for that.”

  “I don’t expect anything of the sort from a man like you,” Rachel said, then could have kicked herself. After all he’d done for her, all she seemed able to do was hurt him, and she knew that she had. It was there in his eyes.

  He grinned, but it was not a happy smile. “Well, darlin’, it seems you’ve got me pegged, and that’s a fact. If you value your sweet head and your hide, you’ll keep yourself locked inside this house, where a desperado like me can’t get to you.”

  Desperado!

  The constant similarities she kept seeing between this man and Dakota gave her a chill of warning. Rachel shivered and pulled the covers up to her chin, her eyes wide and fixed in shock.

  “Have mercy, Rachel, don’t give me that look.”

  Have mercy. Once again, another echo of the long-dead outlaw. Rachel stared, searching for more than a familiar phrase to tell her that she was on the right track.

  “I’ll lock myself out,” Boone said.

  He had started toward the door when she stopped him with a whisper so soft it went almost unheard. “I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

  He froze, and when he turned, there was a look on his face that she knew she would never forget.

  “You should be, sweet Rachel. You surely should be.”

  And then she was listening to the sound of his footsteps moving through her house and the soft, distinct click of the lock falling into place. He was gone.

  She relaxed, then, moments later, leaned over and turned off the light by her bed. Only after the house was dark did she hear him start up his truck and drive away. She closed her eyes, wondering if he’d looked back, and then she slept. When she woke, it was morning and the sun was steaming in upon her face.

  Joanie Mills darted into the bakery just as Rachel was in the act of going out.

  “Rachel! Just the gal I want to see!” she cried. “Wait for me. We need to talk.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall. If only she’d been a little bit earlier, she might have escaped Joanie’s third degree. A minute or so later, Joanie was back at the door, with a jelly doughnut in one hand and a soda in the other.

  “Get the door for me, sugar, will you?”

  Rachel obliged.

  “Follow me,” Joanie ordered, as she started down the street toward her shop. “We’ve got to hurry. Melvina Woodruff is due in fifteen minutes for her monthly rinse. I swear, that woman’s roots grow faster than mold on bread.”

  In spite of the grilling she knew was forthcoming, Rachel had to laugh.

  Joanie grinned, then noticed Rachel’s limp and pointed with the straw poking out of her soda cup.

  “What happened to you?”

  “I, uh...I stepped on a root”

  Joanie’s painted-on eyebrows arched toward her bright red hair. “You were barefoot? Lord A-mighty, girl, it’s too late in the year for such stuff.” She opened her door by backing into it, using her blue-jeaned behind for leverage. “Get in here now. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

  Rachel knew she didn’t have to go. But as she followed Joanie inside, deep down she knew she’d been wanting to do this from day one.

  “Sit,” Joanie ordered, and inhaled the last of her doughnut in one gulp, washing it down with a long slurp of soda. “You talk, I’ll listen. I’ve got to get Melvina’s rinse mixed before she gets here. She always wants it too black. I tried to tell her that a woman her age shouldn’t have hair darker than the moles on her arms, but she just won’t listen.”

  Rachel grinned. Melvina would hate to know her moles had been the topic of such a discussion.

  “I’m waiting,” Joanie said.

  “For what?”

  “For why you didn’t see fit to tell me you’ve taken a leave of absence from work, and why you left the state and didn’t bother to tell me you were gone. I had to hear it from Charlie.” She frowned as she poured and measured, all the while keeping one eye on the clock and the other on Rachel. “You know how I hate hearing second-hand news.”

  “There’s not much to tell,” Rachel said. “I went to South Dakota to—”

  Joanie shrieked. “South Dakota! Girl! What on earth were you thinking? There’s nothing up there but—” She took a deep breath and started over. “Sorry.”

  “As I was saying,” Rachel muttered, “there were some things I needed to find out, and going there was the best way to do it.”

  Joanie paused, the bottle of rinse held tight in her hand.

  “So... did you find out whatever it was you needed to know?”

  Rachel sighed and nodded. “Probably even more than I wanted to know.”

  “Rachel?”

  “What?”

  “You know you’re the best friend I have in Razor Bend, probably my best friend in the entire world, don’t you?”

  Rachel looked a little embarrassed, although pleased by what Joanie had said. “I guess.”

  “Then know this. We both know I gossip a little, but I swear to God—even on my sweet mother’s grave, and she’s not even dead—that I would never, ever, reveal anything you told me in confidence.”

  This is it, Rachel thought. Now’s my time. “Joanie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

  Melvina Woodruff’s rinse hit the floor with a splat, coating Joanie’s white tennies in a dark, malevolent color, as well as a goodly portion of the floor on which she was standing. To her credit, she never looked down.

  “Rachel Brant...are you just askin’ for something to talk about, or are you serious?”

  “Do you see me laughing?”

  Joanie’s eyes grew round with interest. “Tell me.”

  “You swear?” Rachel asked, reminding her of her vow.

  Joanie nodded, then sighed. “Who would believe me, anyway?”

  Rachel began to relax. It felt good to be able to talk, even if what she said made no sense.

  “It’s like this. Over the past six weeks I’ve come to a conclusion. Either I’m losing my mind, or my mind is no longer my own.”

  “Rachel...you’re scaring me.”

  “You’re scared?” Rachel’s fingers curled around the arms of the chair as she leaned forward. “Joanie, you have no idea. I’m remembering things that never happened to me. I’m seeing things that aren’t there. I wake up in the present, but right when I’m least expecting it, it’s as if the world turns backward and I’m still in it, but I’m not me anymore.”

  To Joanie’s credit, she didn’t laugh or tell Rachel that she was crazy. Instead, she stepped over the black puddle on the floor and hugged her.

  “I’m here, honey. You just talk away. Tell me whatever you want, however you feel like saying it, while I clean up this mess.”

  Rachel went limp, only then realizing she was still holding the sack of cookies she’d bought
from the bakery. She set them aside and, to her dismay, felt a lump come into her throat.

  Her chin quivered as she voiced her worst fear. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

  Joanie’s face crumpled as she gave Rachel a handful of tissues and then took one for herself and blew noisily before answering. “Lord, no, honey. You’re the most together person I know. You have to be, to do the things you do.”

  “Then explain it to me,” Rachel said. “Tell me why this is happening. Tell me how to make it stop.”

  “I can’t,” Joanie said, and then lowered her voice. “But I’ll tell you one thing my granny used to say—and my granny knew about things that other folks made fun of. She always said, ‘There’s many a thing twixt earth and heaven that man’s not supposed to understand.’ ”

  Rachel grabbed for her purse as Joanie groaned.

  “Dam, here comes Melvina.”

  “I’d better go,” Rachel said, unwilling for anyone but Joanie to see her distress.

  She had started out the door when Joanie called out. “Rachel, wait!”

  She turned.

  Joanie pointed to her sack. “Forgot your cookies.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes and managed a grin. “Oh, that. I thought you were about to say I’d lost my marbles.”

  Joanie was still laughing when Rachel walked out the door. All the way to her car, Rachel kept thinking that she shouldn’t have said anything. Yet, even though she’d done little more than skim over the facts, she knew she would do it again. The relief that she felt was overwhelming. Secrets were a burden to carry and a good thing to share.

  It was nearing noon. Rachel was sitting in a chair outside Jimmy’s Place, waiting for an oil-and-lube job to be finished on her car before starting home, when Charlie Dutton and Ken Wade pulled the ambulance into the station to refuel.

  Charlie jumped out, a wide grin on his face, as Ken winked and went inside to sign the charge ticket that would be billed to the city.

  “Loafing already?” Charlie teased.

  “I’m waiting for Stu to get through with my car.”

  Charlie snorted softly beneath his breath. “Hope you’re not in any big hurry,” he muttered. “Stu doesn’t exactly set the world on fire.”