A Lady of the West (14 page)

“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 until 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.

“I'll be working with the mare tomorrow morning, ma'am, and you need to be there.”

She'd gotten only two steps away; she stopped and turned back. “Why is that?”

“If I do all the work with her, ma'am, she's going to think she's my horse. Don't reckon you want that, do you?”

Victoria stared at him. Common sense told her that all she required was a good horse for riding; what difference would it make if the mare was fonder of Jake than of her? Then anger roiled in her, not lessened at all by the knowledge that she was reacting exactly as he wanted. It was
her
horse and she didn't want just a mount; she wanted the mare to give her the equine version of friendship. It would forever eat at her if the horse went more willingly to Roper than to her, and if that was small of her, then so be it.

She looked away. “What time?” She kept her voice calm, as if it didn't matter.

“Ten. That'll give you time to sleep late, get rested up.”

He knew she was tired. The knowledge softened something inside her, something that she couldn't allow to soften. She tried not to let his casual solicitude touch her, but it did. For whatever reason, Jake was protective of her and she was forced to acknowledge that it
did
matter. She wanted to go into his arms and let her head rest on his shoulder, just for a moment.

Her face was flushed as she walked into the house, but thankfully that could be put down to the hot sun. Emma was standing in the entrance foyer removing her bonnet and gloves. From the back of the house came the Major's muffled shouts as he discovered something that displeased him. Celia ran down the stairs with a quick drumming of her heels and would have dashed past had Emma not stepped in front of her.

“Goodness, where are you off to in such a hurry?” Victoria asked as she began removing her own bonnet.

“To the stables. Jake said he'd teach me how to curry Gypsy.”

Emma's mouth curved in amusement. “Don't you think you should change out of that dress into something more suitable?”

Celia shrugged. “A dress is a dress.”

“There are old dresses and new dresses; old dresses are better for currying horses.”

Celia looked down at her dress, then said, “All right,” and darted back up the stairs.

Victoria laughed. “She'll never appreciate the difference.”

“She missed so much, didn't she?” Emma mused. “The parties, the dances, the flirting. Can't you just see how all the boys would be clustered around her?”

The smile faded from Victoria's face as she placed her bonnet and gloves on the table. “What will happen to her, I wonder? She's so trusting. I want her to find someone wonderful to love, a man who's gentle and will cherish her as much as she deserves.” She continued in a low voice. “I worry, because I haven't seen a man like that out here.”

Emma said, “For any of us.” She had loved Jon, and grieved for him, but her fiancé had been dead a long time now and she was still young. She, too, wanted to find love, marry, and have a family. She admitted to herself that she'd come out here with high hopes, for Victoria's marriage had signaled an end to hunger and poverty, and she had dreamed … vague, romantic dreams of handsome cowboys, virile, adventurous men who had taken on this wild country and won. Instead, they were isolated on the ranch, which seemed to hide a layer of ugliness and hatred beneath the beauty. With few exceptions, the men were hostile and leering.

Nor was Victoria's situation better; if anything, it was worse. Emma shuddered at the thought of being married to the Major, of having to submit to him in bed if he chose to visit her. The idea would have been unthinkable if they'd still been back in Augusta, but now Emma wouldn't think one whit less of Victoria if she took what comfort she could from Jake Roper. He was a
man,
not a loathsome slug like the Major. He
was too much man for Emma's taste, but Victoria was stronger than she, perhaps even strong enough for someone like Roper.

McLain stomped to the front of the house. Both women moved out of his path, and he passed them without a word, his face dark with a scowl as he climbed the stairs. Neither of them dared ask him what was wrong.

McLain slammed the door to his bedroom and kicked a chair across the room. He'd asked about Angelina's whereabouts first thing, and Lola, with a smug look, had told him that Angelina had gone off with one of the hands that morning and wasn't back yet. He was enraged; not only was she not there when he wanted her, but he knew damn sure the cowhand wouldn't be doing any of the work he was supposed to be doing. The goddamn whore! He'd teach her a lesson when he got his hands on her.