by Connie Mason
“You owe Cully for that.”
“You’re still not out of the woods,” Cully said. “And watch your language around Miz Zoey.”
“Sorry,” Pierce mumbled. His gaze slid slowly over Zoey’s curves. He’d never seen a woman wearing trousers before. What manner of woman was she besides a beautiful one? he wondered.
“Who are you?” Zoey asked curiously. “Who shot you and how did you end up in my root cellar? Most men would have asked for help at the door. Who or what are you hiding from?”
Pierce opened his mouth to answer but never got the words out. The small amount of talking he’d accomplished had exhausted his reservoir of strength. With a sigh, he slid back into unconsciousness.
“Is he all right?” Zoey asked with concern.
“He’s still breathing,” Cully said, “but I ain’t sure for how long.”
Zoey placed her hand on Pierce’s forehead. “He’s burning up. What can we do?”
“I’ll fetch water from the stream. I heard somewhere that bathing a feverish person in cold water will bring down their temperature.”
He left directly, leaving Zoey alone with Pierce. “Don’t die,” she whispered, “please don’t die.” She didn’t know why, but the thought of losing this stranger was unthinkable. She had no idea where he came from or who he was, but something about him moved her.
Lost in the depths of pain and shadows, Pierce heard a sweet voice calling him back from the darkness engulfing him. He decided then and there not to die. If this woman who didn’t even know him wanted him to live, he owed it to her and to his brothers to comply.
Pierce slowly returned to the world of the living. He had moved in and out of consciousness several times during the critical hours of his recovery, aware that someone was sloshing cool water over his body. Cool water and cool hands. And a voice that defied the devil to save him. His first cognizant thought was that he owed the woman named Zoey his life. His second was that thinking like that could get him into a heap of trouble.
“We almost lost you,” Zoey said when she found Pierce staring at her. “Welcome back.”
His voice sounded rough and scratchy. “How long have I been out?”
“Three days. We thought the fever would take you for sure. Are you hungry?”
“Not really. Just thirsty.”
“You have to eat something. I made some chicken broth. Do you think you can stand being turned over on your back?”
He gritted his teeth. “I reckon, if you help me.”
Zoey moved with alacrity, helping him to turn so that his shoulders rested on the pillows she had placed behind him. Pierce found the pain bearable and was glad to change positions after lying on his stomach for so long. Then an urgent need made itself known and Pierce winced with discomfort.
“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“No, I need … that is … perhaps you could send up that man who’s been helping you.”
When she realized what Pierce wanted, Zoey’s face turned bright pink. “I’ll send Cully right up and return later with your soup. Then we need to talk. I don’t even know your name.”
A half hour later Zoey returned to Pierce’s room bearing a tray holding a steaming bowl of soup. She set it carefully down on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed to feed him.
“I don’t need your help,” Pierce said grumpily, unaccustomed to being waited on by a woman.
Zoey let him try, knowing he was still too weak to wield the spoon with any amount of dexterity. After several futile attempts, Pierce handed her the spoon and said, “You win.” He hated displaying weakness of any kind in front of women.
Zoey thought him too stubborn for his own good as she took up the spoon, dipped it in the broth, and brought it to his mouth. Pierce swallowed grudgingly. When the bowl was nearly empty, he turned his head away. “Enough.”
“Very well,” Zoey said, setting the bowl aside. “Now then, who are you?”
Pierce scowled. He didn’t like this helpless feeling of being cornered. The way he saw it, he had two choices. He could tell the truth or he could lie. Lying seemed a despicable thing to do in view of Zoey’s care of him.
“My name is Pierce Delaney. Who are you?”
“Zoey Fuller. Where are you from, Mr. Delaney?”
“Around. Here and there. Cully said this is the Circle F ranch.”
Suddenly Pierce recalled the conversation he’d heard while hiding in the root cellar. “Who is Samson Willoughby and why is he threatening you?”
Zoey recoiled in shock. “Who told you about Samson Willoughby?”
“I heard you and Willoughby arguing while I was hiding in the root cellar. What was that all about?”
Zoey bristled. “It’s really none of your concern, Mr. Delaney. Now, where were we? Oh, yes, who shot you?”
“No one you know,” Pierce shot back. His eyes were starting to glaze over and Zoey realized enough had been said for now. But they were far from through talking. Pierce Delaney had a way of evading the truth.
The following day Pierce felt stronger than the day before. He was able to feed himself and began to feel real hunger. He was thinking about getting up and trying to move about when he heard riders approaching the house. He knew without being told that the vigilantes had found him. And at a time he was still too weak to leave his bed. There was no help for it now. Dragging himself from bed, he painfully made his way to where his clothes lay, looking for his guns. Unfortunately his guns had been removed and were nowhere in sight.
Pierce’s stamina nearly deserted him as he crossed to the window and dropped down to peer over the sill. He’d been right. The vigilante party from Dry Gulch rode into the yard. They reined in sharply when they saw Zoey emerging from the barn. He felt somewhat relieved to see Cully falling in beside her, armed with a shotgun. Pierce feared Zoey would be harmed and he didn’t want that to happen. Not on his account.
With a pang of regret, Pierce realized his luck had run out. Once Zoey learned the vigilantes were looking for him and why, she’d gladly hand him over to Riley Reed. He buried his head in his arms and waited.
“Sorry to bother you, ma’am. I’m Riley Reed from up around Dry Gulch. We’re vigilantes. We’re looking for a fugitive from the law. Have you seen a tall, dark-haired man skulking around here in the last few days? He couldn’t have gotten far without a horse.”
Zoey and Cully exchanged knowing glances. Cully shrugged his shoulders, his gesture telling Zoey that it was up to her to decide whether to turn Pierce over to these rough men who represented the law in these parts.
Zoey didn’t like the looks of the vigilantes. They were a motley crew at best. Their leader looked mean, and fully capable of cold-blooded murder.
“What did this fugitive do?”
“It ain’t for tender ears, ma’am,” Reed hedged.
“Nevertheless, I want to know if I need to arm myself should this man come around.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya. Pierce Delaney seduced a woman from a prominent family and refused to marry her when he got her with child.”
“Is that all?” Zoey asked, relieved to learn that Pierce wasn’t a murderer or thief.
“Not exactly, ma’am. When Cora Lee Doolittle insisted that he marry her, he beat her something fierce. It’s a wonder she didn’t lose the baby. She’s a pitiful sight, ma’am.”
Zoey gasped and exchanged a look with Cully. “Are you sure?”
“Would he run if we wasn’t guilty? Have you seen him?”
Zoey hesitated so long, Reed grew impatient.
“Well? Either you’ve seen him or you ain’t. Pierce Delaney is a vicious, violent man. He and his brothers are hell-raisers who’ve terrorized the townspeople for years. He’s guilty, all right.”
Zoey tried to imagine Pierce Delaney beating up a woman, and couldn’t. It wasn’t difficult to picture him seducing one, though, and taking great pleasure in doing so. Unfortunately she wasn’t a good enough judge of men to decide
if Pierce Delaney was capable of committing so despicable a crime against a woman. She looked at Cully and received no help from that quarter.
Finally, realizing the vigilantes wouldn’t be put off, Zoey gave the answer her conscience demanded. “I’m sorry, no man bearing that description has shown up at the Circle F. In fact, we haven’t seen a stranger in these parts for a good long time.”
Riley Reed gave Zoey a sharp look, then raised a hand to the brim of his hat and said, “That’s all we wanted to know, ma’am. If you see the man we’re looking for, I suggest you notify the local law pronto. Can’t take no chances with women beaters. You alone here, ma’am?”
The lustful look Reed bestowed upon Zoey made her skin crawl. “My … my husband is out chasing mavericks,” she lied.
He touched his hand to the brim of his hat. “Good day to you then, ma’am. I reckon we’ll head on back to Dry Gulch. Maybe the Delaney brothers will know where Pierce is hiding.”
Zoey watched with trepidation as the vigilantes rode through the gate. She prayed she hadn’t acted rashly by withholding vital information from the law, even if it was vigilante law.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Miz Zoey,” Cully said. “I never did cotton to men beating up on defenseless women.”
Zoey spun around to face the old man. “Do you think he did it?”
“It ain’t my place to judge. I don’t aim to see you get hurt, so I’ll be keeping an eye on him.”
“Pierce is in no condition to hurt anyone right now. He doesn’t look the kind who would do those things that man accused him of.”
“Time will tell, Miz Zoey,” Cully said cryptically. “I reckon I’ll get on with the chores now that those men are gone.”
Pierce didn’t have the strength to put himself back to bed. He sat beneath the window, waiting for the vigilantes to burst into the room. Dimly he wondered if they would hang him from the nearest tree or wait until they were away from the ranch. He hoped they would wait, for he’d hate to have Zoey witness such a gruesome sight.
He heard the door open and braced himself.
Zoey entered the room, surprised to see Pierce crouched beneath the window in his underwear. “What are you doing out of bed? Do you want your wound to reopen, Mr. Delaney?”
Pierce raised his head and stared at Zoey in confusion. “Where are the vigilantes?”
“Gone.”
Pierce couldn’t believe his ears. “Why didn’t you turn me in?” When women did something unexpected, they usually had a reason.
“Let me help you,” Zoey said, wondering herself why she didn’t have an answer.
Placing his arm over her shoulders, she supported his weight as he hobbled the few steps to the bed. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, trying to summon the strength to swing his legs up. Zoey bent, lifted his legs onto the bed, and covered him with a sheet.
“Why did you do it, Zoey?”
Zoey knew Pierce wanted an answer, but she still couldn’t explain her reluctance to turn him over to the vigilantes. “I’m the one who should be asking questions, Mr. Delaney. For instance, are you or are you not the object of that manhunt?”
Pierce’s mouth flattened into a grim line. Lying now would serve no purpose. “I am.”
“Did you or did you not severely beat a woman?”
“I did not.”
“Do you deny seducing the woman?”
“I deny everything. I never touched Cora Lee. She’s lying if she said I did.”
“Why did you run?”
“You saw those vigilantes. Do you think they’d stop to ask questions before stringing me up? No woman will ever force me into marriage.”
Zoey met the turbulence of Pierce’s gaze unflinchingly. Her pulse accelerated, heat curled insidiously through her. What was happening to her? She felt powerless to deny the disturbing chord his words struck in her. He looked and sounded implacable. From his dark hair to the rigid set of his firm jaw to the burning intensity of his green eyes, ruthless and unyielding. She wondered who the woman was that had made him so bitter.
A long silence followed, broken only by the soft groan issuing from Pierce’s lips. One burning question reverberated within the silence of Zoey’s mind. Is Pierce Delaney lying?
“I’m grateful for your help, you have to know that,” Pierce said, feeling the effects of his first foray out of bed. “But if you don’t mind, I’m about done in and would rather continue this conversation later.”
“We will continue it, Mr. Delaney, whether you want to or not. The town of Rolling Prairie has vigilantes, too, and they’re every bit as ruthless as those from Dry Gulch. I can easily send Cully for them.”
“Do whatever you damn please,” Pierce said, too weary to care. “But you’d better do it fast, before I’m well enough to light out of here.”
“I may just do that, Mr. Delaney,” Zoey said with asperity as she flounced out of the room.
Damn contrary female, Pierce thought grumpily. He wouldn’t give a plug nickel for the whole lot of them. He hated the feeling of being beholden to a woman. He couldn’t decide if it was good luck or misfortune that had led him to the Circle F and Miss Zoey Fuller. His last thought before he fell into an exhausted sleep was that he’d be damn fortunate if he didn’t awaken to find the vigilantes hauling him out of bed to hang him from the nearest tree.
“What did Delaney say about those charges against him?” Cully asked when he encountered Zoey later that day. “Is he guilty?”
“He denied everything, of course, except that he’s the man they’re after. Frankly, I don’t know what to think. It’s difficult to believe the man upstairs in that bed is the vicious man Mr. Reed described.”
“Looks can be deceiving, Miz Zoey.”
“Why didn’t you say something if you thought he was guilty of those things?”
Cully aimed a long stream of tobacco juice between his feet. “Never did cotton to vigilantes. They pretend they’re the law, and they ain’t.”
Zoey shuddered. “I couldn’t agree more.” She couldn’t forget the insulting way in which Riley Reed had stared at her. “Unfortunately we have to put up with them until we get regular law in the territory.”
“What are you going to do about Delaney?” Cully asked.
“For the moment, nothing. He’s much too weak to be a threat to us. I’ll make a decision when the time comes. Let’s get to work, there’s chores waiting.”
“Have you forgotten about Willoughby, Miz Zoey? He’s gonna want his answer soon. I know how much this ranch means to you.”
“I’ve got to find that deed, Cully. I know Pa wouldn’t mortgage the ranch without my knowledge. Where could it be? I’ve looked everywhere.”
* * *
Two days later, Samson Willoughby appeared at Zoey’s door.
“You look mighty fetching today, Zoey. As good as you look in britches, when we’re married you’ll wear dresses and act like a lady. Your Pa let you run wild. He was too indulgent.”
“State your business, Mr. Willoughby, I have a ranch to run.”
“Not for long, my dear,” he said with a smirk. “Aren’t you going to invite me inside?”
“I’m very busy, Mr. Willoughby.”
“Indeed, so am I.” He pushed past her into the house. “I’ve always admired this house. Your father had good taste.”
Zoey fumed in impotent rage. “What is it you want, Mr. Willoughby?”
“First, you must call me Samson. We’ll be husband and wife soon.”
“Not as long as I have a breath left in my body.”
“And a lovely body it is,” Willoughby said, his gaze lingering on her full breasts. “I can’t wait to have you in my bed. We’ll deal well with one another.”
Pierce heard the rumble of voices coming from downstairs, and scowled when he identified the voice of the man speaking with Zoey. He had heard it before. Curious to know what was going on, he managed to drag himself from bed. He paused in the doorway to rest, list
ening to the conversation wafting up from below.
“Why do you insist on plaguing me, Mr. Willoughby?” he heard Zoey say.
“You forget, my dear, that my bank holds the mortgage on your land. If you don’t marry me, I’ll be forced to foreclose. The land will be mine whether you decide to marry me or not, but as my wife, you can continue to live here, where you were born and raised. I know how much this land means to you. And you have to know how much I want you.”
“When my fiancé arrives, he’ll find a way to prove you’re a liar and a cheat.”
“Dream on, my dear. I vow you’ll marry no one but me. Now, since we’ll be married soon, I’d like a sample of what I’m getting.”
Before Zoey realized what he intended, she found herself clasped against Willoughby’s chest. He was stronger than he looked, and her futile attempts to escape served only to arouse him.
“Let me go!”
“Not yet,” Willoughby said, clamping his mouth over hers in a bruising kiss.
From his vantage point, Pierce heard the struggle going on between Zoey and Willoughby, and frustration welled up inside him. In his weakened condition he was helpless as a kitten. If only he had his gun. He was wondering if he’d pass out if he tried to negotiate the stairs when Zoey did something that made his intervention unnecessary. Drawing back her knee, she brought it forward into Willoughby’s groin with enough force to bring him to his knees. He screamed and clutched himself in agony.
“You’ll pay for that,” he gasped between sobs. “Once we’re married I’ll make you sorry you attacked me. I intended to treat you gently, but I can see you need taming.”
Pierce let out a chuckle. He’d hate to ruffle Miss Zoey Fuller’s feathers. He waited, making no effort to return to bed until he was certain Willoughby wouldn’t retaliate. He needn’t have worried. Cully burst through the door moments later. He looked mad enough to pull the trigger on the shotgun he carried. Pierce hoped he would.
“Is this polecat bothering you, Miz Zoey?”
“Mr. Willoughby was just leaving, Cully. Bring his horse around, will you?”
