A Lady of the West

by Linda Howard

  “Of course,” McLain snapped.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I’ll tell you what the problem is,” Garnet said, stepping closer. “The problem is you killing two of our oldest hands. Pledger and Charlie Guest had been with the ranch for years.”

  Jake smiled. It was the same expression Victoria had seen just before he’d killed Pledger. “I could always make it three,” he suggested in a silky tone.

  “That’s enough damn killing!” McLain yelled. “Back off, Garnet. It riles me to lose Pledger, but I sure as hell don’t want my two best men killing each other over him.”

  “Sure, boss.” Garnet stepped back, but his expression remained hate-filled.

  Jake wasn’t surprised that Garnet had backed off so easily; face-to-face wasn’t his style.

  McLain put on his best smile. “The party tonight will be just the thing to make you ladies forget about this,” he said. “The governor can’t wait to meet you, since word’s out that I have the three prettiest women in the territory. Every man in Santa Fe will be trying to dance with you tonight.”

  Victoria seized desperately on that excuse. “My goodness, I’d forgotten about the party! We’ll have to hurry. Run along, gentlemen—” She made little shooing gestures with her hands. “Oh, Major, could you have the hotel send up hot water to both rooms?”

  “Of course, my dear.” He patted her on the cheek. “Dress up in your fanciest dress—give these yokels something to gawk at.”

  When the three women were alone again, Victoria visibly sagged. “I don’t know if I can bear even the thought of a party,” she said in a stifled voice. “Dear God.” But she forced herself to straighten and took deep breaths to compose herself. “I suppose we’ll have to go and make the best of it. Celia, dear, are you all right?”

  “Yes.” Celia looked unusually grave, but her dark blue eyes were steady. “Jake had to kill him, to protect us. I’m not sorry.”

  Victoria felt sick. Yes, Jake had killed to protect, but had he done it for Emma and Celia, or to conceal his own indiscretion with Victoria?

  There was a hardness in him that terrified her, yet she was inexplicably drawn to him. Try as she might to avoid him, fate kept twisting their lives together, forcing them to share sordid secrets that created an unwilling intimacy between them, and now they were sharing lies.

  Yet she had stood in his arms and let him kiss her in a way so improper and shattering that she could scarcely bear to think about it. She was another man’s wife! To do what she had done had been betrayal, but at the time she had gloried in it. She had enjoyed the scent and taste of him, the feel of his strongly muscled body against her, thrilled to the power of his arms.

  She had even dreamed of him. And that was, perhaps, an even greater betrayal.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Victoria excused herself and sought out the ladies’ convenience, needing to get away just for a moment from the chatter and social smiles, and from the unexpectedly harrowing nearness of blue uniforms. It was silly, because the war had been over for a year, and in the meantime she had certainly become used to the sight of blue uniforms on the streets of Augusta. But never before had she been required to meet Union soldiers socially. She had no hate for them and wasn’t bitter, as so many Southerners were, but when the first Union officer had bowed over her hand, she had felt afraid, as if they were still foes. The soldiers certainly did nothing to calm her already frayed nerves.

  She had used rigid control to survive the evening. She hadn’t allowed herself to think of the gaping hole in Pledger’s chest, the ugliness of death, the boneless sprawl. Nor had she let herself remember the vile things he had said or the chilling way Jake had smiled. Most of all, she had blocked from her mind the hot, endless moments she had spent in his arms. It shouldn’t have happened and must never happen again. She had to forget it forever.

  The hallway was deserted, and though two lamps illuminated it for the benefit of the guests, the light seemed dim, absorbed by the rich but rather dark patterns of the wallpaper and carpeting. She longingly thought of the simple white walls and clear, uncluttered lines of the hacienda. If she enjoyed her marriage half as much as she did that house, she would have been very happy indeed.

  The convenience was at the back of the house. As she passed an open doorway, it was filled with a dark, massive figure. She was startled but not frightened, merely thinking it another guest. An arm stretched out of the shadows and grabbed her, jerked her into the room, and only then did she become alarmed. She inhaled jerkily to scream, and the man clapped his hand over her mouth.

  “Damn it, don’t scream,” he muttered.

  The simple recognition of his voice twanged at her nerves. She jerked her head away from his hand. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be in here! How did you get in?”

  “I’m here because the Major doesn’t go anywhere without backup. I’ve been walking around outside, keeping an eye on things. This door was open, and I could see in through the window. From the parade of ladies going up and down the hall, it didn’t take much brain to figure out where they were going.”

  “So you sneaked in the back door?”

  “Crawled in the window.”

  “And grabbed the first woman who came by?” She was incensed and thought she might still scream. He hadn’t let go of her; his fingers were still hooked around her waist, and the way he was holding her so close made her uneasy.

  “No, I waited for you.” He let go of her and walked to the open door, which he eased shut without even a click. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  Without the light coming from the hallway, the room at first seemed totally dark. She moved closer to the windows, both to put some distance between them and to see better. She lifted her chin. “What do we have to talk about?”

  “Pledger.”

  She flinched a little at the name. “You killed him. What more is there to say?”

  “Plenty. Don’t let your high-nosed conscience push you into confessing. Pledger was dirt. He murdered and raped, and enjoyed it.”

  “Like you enjoyed killing him?”

  He was silent a moment, then gave a low, harsh laugh as he moved toward her, into the light from the windows. “Yeah, I enjoyed it. I felt like I was doing a good deed.”

  Victoria clenched her hands. “You killed him to keep him from telling the Major that you were in my room. You shouldn’t have been in there at all; it’s my fault a man is dead, and I lied to hide why he was shot.”

  “Not much else you could do.”

  “Is a life, even his, so cheap? What could have happened if you hadn’t shot him, if he had told? You’d have been fired and the Major would have been angry with me, but that would have been his right—”

  “Wake up,” he snapped, still keeping his voice low. “This isn’t about a job! McLain would have told Garnet to get rid of me, and he wouldn’t mean just throw me off of the ranch. But even if he didn’t kill me, if he just fired me, where would that leave you? Where would it leave your little sister?”

  “Celia?” Victoria stared up at him, trying to see his features in the faint light.

  “If I’m gone, who’ll keep Garnet away from the girl?”

  She hadn’t thought of that. She felt dizzy, as if she had almost walked off a cliff and seen it just in time. Good or bad, and for his own reasons, Jake Roper was the only protection Celia had—or, come to that, she herself had. He had killed to protect them. But why? She didn’t delude herself that he cared anything about her; how could he? He didn’t know her. True, he had kissed her, but she was learning that didn’t necessarily mean anything to a man.

  Whatever she saw in his cold green eyes, she was certain it wasn’t tenderness. His reasons for protecting them were his own. She felt as if she were being used, but she couldn’t see how. She had no power, no influence for him to hope to exploit.

  She inhaled. “I won’t say anything,” she said, her tone stifled.

  “Just make sure you don�
��t. What about your cousin? Did she hear what was said?”

  “I think so, but Emma would never say anything.”

  “And Celia?”

  “She won’t tell, either.”

  “Can you trust her?”

  Her anger was immediate, but she tamped it down. He didn’t know Celia, couldn’t understand that her peculiar characteristics in no way indicated an untrustworthiness. But perhaps her anger was because all her emotions were so close to the surface tonight. Because of that, she restrained her immediate retort and instead merely replied, “Yes.”

  “Make sure she understands.”

  “She already does, Mr. Roper.” She said it through her teeth, her control slipping a bit.

  “Jake.”

  She stepped back. “I think not. This afternoon was a mistake, one that won’t be repeated. It would be best if we—”

  “It won’t, huh?” He almost laughed, but instead took her by the shoulders and pulled her to him. He wrapped his arms around her, forcing her into full contact with him from knee to breast. “Do you think I wanted to be attracted to you? I didn’t, and I don’t like it, but that’s the way it is, and I’ll be damned if I let you treat me like I’m invisible.”

  Uselessly she shoved against his chest, then turned her head to the side as his mouth lowered. He caught her chin and was bending to her again when there was a faint scratching at the door, and Emma said in a low voice, “Victoria?”

  Jake released her as Emma opened the door and slipped inside, swiftly closing it again.

  Victoria drew herself up, sharply aware of what Emma must be thinking.

  Emma carefully navigated the dark room until she was standing before them. “You had been gone too long, so I came looking for you,” she said in her quiet voice. “I heard your voices when I passed the door. We’ll go back in together, and no one will think anything of it.” To Jake she said, “I didn’t have the opportunity earlier to thank you for what you did, Mr. Roper. I’m deeply grateful.”

  Tears stung Victoria’s eyes. Dear Emma. Her love and loyalty, her support, never wavered.

  “No thanks are necessary,” Jake said.

  “Perhaps not, but then you weren’t on the other side of that door.” Emma put her hand on Victoria’s arm. “Give us time to get back to the party before you leave.”

  Amused, he said, “I’ll go out the same way I came in, through the window.”

  “Be careful, Mr. Roper. And thank you again, whether or not you think my gratitude is deserved.”

  They left together and when they were in the hall, Victoria gave a low, shaky laugh. “I still need to use the convenience.”

  “Of course.”

  Emma didn’t say anything else until they were returning to the party. Then she whispered, “Be careful.”

  Victoria shuddered. “I hope the situation never arises again,” she said, and hoped that Emma understood she had no intention of becoming embroiled in an unsavory relationship with Jake Roper. He frightened her, even though she felt this sordid physical attraction for him. He made love as casually as he wiped his boots, and he killed the same way.

  She ignored the sudden chill she felt and pasted a bright smile on her face as she and Emma rejoined the party.

  That goddamn Roper was up to something.

  Garnet didn’t know what it was, but he felt more and more uneasy as he thought about Pledger. He lay in his bed in the hotel, his booted feet crossed carelessly on the white bedspread, smoking in the dark while he thought about it. Pledger had been a mean son of a bitch, but he hadn’t been stupid, and the fact was it was plain stupid to draw on Roper. Yet Pledger had done that very thing and earned himself a pine coffin. Roper’s explanation had made sense right up to the part where Pledger drew on him.

  It had been an easy life on the hacienda, but maybe it was time to be thinking about changing things. There was trouble in the air that he couldn’t identify, but he could feel it. Maybe the Major was losing his grip on things. Maybe it was time for a stronger hand.

  He smiled, a cold little smile. Yeah, maybe that was it. The Major was so damn impressed with Roper’s gun that he wouldn’t hear of getting rid of him, so maybe the thing to do was get rid of the Major. That would put Roper out of a job, neat and simple. Garnet would be rid of him without trying to get the drop on the son of a bitch. Once Roper left, the little cornhaired gal would be all his; her high-falutin’ sister wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it.

  Hell, no, that wouldn’t work. Roper was too friendly with the Major’s wife. Kill the Major, and Roper would be the one who stayed to comfort the grieving widow and her pretty sister.

  The solution was pretty simple. It didn’t take him longer than a second of consideration to settle on it. All he had to do was kill the Major’s wife as well as the Major. He’d have to figure out some way to do it so no one could put the blame on him, but it could be done. On a ranch the size of the kingdom, there would be plenty of opportunities. The bitch had helped him by getting this bee in her bonnet about riding. There would be lots of times when she’d be all by herself, with no one else within sight or earshot. Garnet was a fair shot with a rifle; it would be no trouble a’tall to put a bullet in her head. Then the Major, and after that it would all be his.

  Garnet lay in the darkness, so satisfied with his plan that he could almost taste it, so impatient to feel the little yeller-haired gal beneath him that he had to reach down and rub his aching loins. The best part of his plan was that he wouldn’t have to do nothing about Roper—he could just fire him!

  Garnet was like a great many people in that he used himself as the measure by which to judge others, which was what had kept him alive for so long. He automatically expected the worst of someone, and because of that he was extraordinarily wary. Trust was alien to him. He believed himself to be safe with the Major only because he knew too much and had made the Major dependent on him, which was the only smart thing to do. Garnet’s one weakness was that he was bund to the possibility of someone else’s greater sense of purpose. If it were Garnet who lost his job, he would pack his saddlebags and leave, so he expected Roper to do the same. It never occurred to him that Jake might be so enraged by the death of the Major’s wife that he’d stay, because Garnet himself would never risk his life for a woman, especially a dead one. Nor did he know that Roper had another, more compelling reason for remaining on the Kingdom Ranch.

  So he lay in bed and planned, so hungry for the power that was within his grasp that he couldn’t sleep. He kept rubbing slowly at his crotch, thinking of both the ranch and Celia Waverly, until they became intertwined in his mind. He could have easily left his room and found a whore, but a strange hot compulsion kept him in bed. He didn’t want to stick it in some gaudy, cheap-smelling whore; he wanted to stick it in Celia, and nothing else would satisfy him.

  The return trip to the ranch was just as arduous as the journey to Santa Fe had been. They spent most of it in the bone-racking buggy, lurching over rocks and into holes, and choking on dust kicked up by the riders in front. The only comfort was late in the day, when they stopped to make camp. The heat began to cool, the dust settled, and they could stretch their legs. While the simple meals were being prepared, Jake worked with the three new horses and Victoria’s gaze was often lured in that direction. She told herself it was just to watch the animals, but Jake’s deep voice drifted on the quiet air like velvet, instructing, soothing, praising. Against her will, it worked the same spell on her as it did on the horses.

  Celia’s dark brown mare was the fastest to pick up on the proper behavior for a horse wearing a sidesaddle, a fact which pleased the girl and made her even prouder of her mount. She named the mare Gypsy, a name that was considerably flashier than its bearer, and lavished the animal with attention. Jake figured the mare would be ready to ride by the time they reached the ranch, but didn’t say anything to Celia because he knew she would immediately start demanding to ride out by herself. It was better if she didn’t know unt
il the others could go with her.

  The gray gelding Emma had chosen didn’t present many problems, either, but Victoria’s mare was another story. The beefy man had lied; she wasn’t even half-broken to the saddle. What’s more, she didn’t like it. She tried to bite him every time he put the saddle on her back; she blew up to keep him from tightening the cinch (a trick she abandoned after he kneed her the first few times she did it); and she wasn’t above a well-placed kick. He didn’t even try mounting her; he figured that was going to be a real battle and didn’t want to start it until he had her in a corral where she couldn’t run away if she managed to throw him. When he didn’t have the saddle on her she was as affectionate and playful as a child, but the saddle just plain made her mad. She plain made him mad, too, but he told himself ruefully that it was his own fault for volunteering to train the horses. He’d get her gentled for Victoria if it killed him, and he thought it just might.

  Victoria herself was acting as if he were made of thin air, looking right through him. He let it pass, because he had plenty of time once they got back to the ranch. Much as she tried to deny it, she liked the way he touched her. So he watched her with hooded eyes and bided his time.

  They arrived at the ranch late the following morning. The Major strode into the house yelling for Carmita, leaving the women to get down from the buggy unaided. Jake swung down from his horse and reached the buggy in time to help Emma. Celia, of course, had already jumped down and raced off. Emma smiled at him and murmured a thank-you. Jake turned back to reach for Victoria, and his eyes locked with hers for a second before she looked away. But he’d seen enough to read her reluctance to let him touch her. He smiled grimly and grasped her around the waist, rather than simply giving her his hand to help her balance. Swinging her to the ground, he said, “Ma’am,” politely, and touched his hat.

  “Thank you, Mr. Roper.” Her voice sounded a bit strained.