Ana Leigh (3 page)

He continued down the street to where loud laughter carried over the tinny din of a piano. Zach paused in the entrance of the smoke-filled saloon and glanced around. Tait and his two minions were at a corner table. As much as he’d prefer to ignore the son of a bitch, he didn’t have any choice. He walked over to the table and sat down.

“Where’ve ya been?” Tait asked. “Ain’t seen ya around.” His words were slurred and Zach hoped he wouldn’t get belligerent, like he usually did when he’d had too much to drink.

“I could ask the same about you. I looked for you fellas earlier.”

“Tait hadda change his pants, then we had somethin’ to eat,” Pike said.

“What’s Bull and Joe up to?” Tait asked.

Zach laughed. “What do you think? Every time we enter a town, Bull has to check out the whorehouse.”

“Yeah, and we have to hear about it for a month of Sundays,” Cain grumbled. “Hey, Pike, let’s go and check out the place for ourselves.” The two men got up and headed for the door.

Tait poured himself another shot of whiskey and downed it in a gulp. “Ya tried out these whores yet?” He could barely keep his heavy eyelids open.

Zach shook his head. “Figure I’ve got plenty of time. I’m guessing we’ll be hanging around here for a while.”

Tait’s bushy brows met in a suspicious frown. “Where’d ya get that idea?”

“You were dead set to come here, Tait. Figure you had a good reason.”

Tait thrust out his jaw, his eyes flashing angrily. “Yer too damn smart for yer own good, MacKenzie. It could get ya killed.” He shoved back his chair and staggered away.

Zach remained at the table and watched Tait lumber up the stairway. He’d been a Texas Ranger too long—it was a good thing his enlistment would soon be up. He missed the Triple M and wanted to go back to ranching.

It had taken him six months to catch up with this gang. Thanks to his cousin Cole—who’d been riding with the gang before Zach found him and sent him back to Texas—he’d had been able to infiltrate the cattle rustlers two weeks ago. Trouble was, he hadn’t found evidence serious enough to arrest them. His instinct told him Tait had brought the gang to Brimstone for a definite reason. But Tait didn’t want thinking men in his gang, and if Zach made any more careless slips like he just did, he’d never get the proof he needed. They hadn’t done any rustling in the two weeks he’d been with them, but Cole had said they’d done so in Arizona.

Zach was sick and tired of trailing along with this gang; he’d like to ride away and forget they even existed. But if it was the last thing he did before leaving the Rangers, he’d see that bastard Tait dead or behind prison walls.

The only thing that might make this assignment tolerable was that redheaded Harvey Girl. She might add a little spice to the stew. He poured himself a shot of whiskey and thought about that kiss. Yeah, she might help to make this assignment real tolerable.

Chapter 3

A
fter locking her bedroom door, Rose removed the black bow and pins from her hair. It felt good to free her hair, and she shook it out wildly until it hung in unruly dishevelment across her shoulders.

Removing Emily’s letter from her pocket, she laid it on the nightstand, then closed the drapes and removed all of her clothing. She loved being unrestrained—her long hair hanging loosely and the feeling of air on her naked body.

Not that she would ever parade nude in front of anyone; she hadn’t even undressed completely in front of Em when the two women shared a room in New Mexico. Could it have been out of respect for Emily’s modesty rather than her own?

But she’d never stripped in front of Wes, either. And Lord knew he had no modesty to respect. She’d always turned off the lamp or climbed under the sheet to remove her clothing whenever he lay with her.

She paused in front of the cheval mirror in the corner and gazed at her image. So why did she find such pleasure in moments like this? Was there a wanton side to her that she kept contained, hidden from even herself? Was that the reason she presented a woman-of-the-world veneer to others, so afraid of releasing this hidden nature that she was willing to marry for the convenience of money rather than risking the passion of love?

She brought a hand to her lips, which were still swollen from Zach MacKenzie’s kiss. Would she hesitate to release her inhibitions to him, too, or could she blatantly stand naked before him as she was doing now? The way she felt right now, it seemed like she wouldn’t hesitate.

Leaning forward, she peered more deeply into the mirror as if the answer lay in the reflected image. Tonight, when he had held her in his arms, she’d sensed this hidden nature’s urgent cry for release; a clarion call that for a few exquisite seconds had deafened her ears to her own reasoning.

Damn you, Zach MacKenzie. Who are you? Why should you be able to torment me this way?

Seized by a sudden, heated flush, she folded her arms across her naked breasts to conceal the hardening of her nipples.

Oh, how his kiss had excited her. There could be no doubt of that. Dropping her arms to her sides, she saw what the thought of him did to her body. Her nipples were distended, and she felt the draw in her loins. How could just the thought of this stranger cause such an effect on her? No one else had ever been able to do that.

Rose shivered. If just thinking about his kiss could do this to her, what would happen the next time he kissed her? And there
would
be a next time, no doubt about that. His devilish eyes had promised it as much as his words declared it.

And she already yearned for that moment.

Snatching her nightgown from the bed, she hurriedly pulled it over her head, as if blocking out the naked evidence could deny the naked truth.

She turned away, picked up the pearl-handled brush that Em had given her, and began to brush out her long hair. She was angry with herself for even allowing Zach MacKenzie to invade her thoughts. The more she thought of him, the angrier she became, and the harder she stroked. By the time she put aside the brush, her scalp was tingling.

“You see, Rose,” she declared aloud, glaring defiantly into the mirror, “unless you keep that man out of your thoughts, he’ll always cause you some kind of pain.”

She climbed into bed, puffed the pillows up behind her back, and reached for Emily’s letter. Smiling with expectation, she opened the envelope.

The strident blast of the alarm jarred Rose out of the sweet euphoria of a delicious dream where Zach MacKenzie was kissing her. She groped to shut it off. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was only five o’clock. Sleepily, she climbed out of bed.

Within ten minutes she was dressed and had almost finished grooming herself. Rather than take more time to pin up her hair, she brushed it quickly and put on a wide-brimmed hat to protect her face from the sun. She already had enough freckles across the bridge of her nose. A few quick strokes from the fluffy powder puff on the dresser succeeded in covering them.

Rose left her room and tapped on a nearby door. “Good morning,” she greeted, when Kate opened the door.

“Good morning. What’s wrong?”

“Have you forgotten this morning is our turn to ride out to the Wilson farm?”

Kate groaned. “Oh, dear! I
did
forget.”

“I suspected as much when I didn’t hear you moving around. Tell you what, I’ll go and get the buggy while you get dressed.”

“All right. I’ll hurry,” Kate said, now galvanized into action.

Zach finished saddling his horse and led it outside. As he was about to mount, he saw Rose Dubois. She saw him, too, took a half step as if to halt, but then continued to approach the livery.

The first thing he noticed was that hair of hers, freed from restraint except for the hat that shielded her face. It reminded him of his mother—reminded him of home. Not that one had anything to do with the other; his thoughts of Miss Rose Dubois went straight to his groin.

He doffed his hat. “Good morning, Rosie.”

“Good morning.”

Her greeting carried considerably less enthusiam than his, but he’d cut her some slack because she was so damn good to look at. She looked as beautiful in sunlight as she had in the moonlight. And despite how well she filled that Harvey Girl uniform, it couldn’t compare to seeing her in a bright gown, with her gorgeous red hair hanging to her shoulders. It was enough to make a man’s thoughts drift from the work at hand.

“What’s got you up with the birds this morning, Rosie?”

“I could ask you the same, MacKenzie. Actually, I’m here to rent a buckboard. Each morning we ride out to the Wilson farm to get fresh eggs.”

He glanced skyward. “Looks to be a good day for it. I like early mornings. Everything’s still except for the sound of chirping birds.”

“Chirping birds generally annoy me by waking me up.”

“Yes, but it’s a good sound to lie in bed and listen to. Kind of fills a man with a feeling of tranquility.”

“ ‘God’s in his Heaven; all’s right with the world.’ ”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s a line from a poem by Robert Browning.”

“Reckon that Browning fellow and I think along the same lines.”

“If it’s tranquility you’re seeking, MacKenzie, your actions last night certainly speak otherwise.”

“You mean my kissing you?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Come on, Rosie. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t like it.”

“The kiss, or being treated like a whore by some saddle tramp who’s too lazy to get an honest job for a living?”

She stepped past him, and a grin curved his mouth as he watched the sway of her hips as she walked away.

He sure liked this gal; she met a man head-on and pulled no punches. Whether she admitted it or not, they had begun a courting dance.

When Rose arrived at the boardinghouse, she shifted over and let Kate drive. A flick of the reins and the team moved into a trot.

The only person stirring was a milkman making his morning deliveries on a creaking wagon drawn by a swaybacked horse. He nodded to them in passing.

“Mornin’, ladies.”

Kate returned the greeting brightly but Rose’s reply was distracted, her mind filled with the encounter at the livery. She had just met the man the day before, and already she was dreaming of him, couldn’t get him out of her thoughts, and let him kiss her. But worse—she had enjoyed that kiss! If she didn’t put thoughts of Zach MacKenzie aside, she’d be moving around like the walking dead.

After about a mile, Kate broke the silence between them. “You’re very quiet this morning, Rose. Is there something bothering you?”

This was the ideal time to really get acquainted with the girl, and Rose decided to use the opportunity. “Kate, have you ever been attracted to a man?”

“Certainly.” Kate giggled. “Are you under the impression there’s no handsome men in Wisconsin?”

“I don’t mean just good-looking; I mean one who’s attractive enough that you’d be willing to . . . you know, let him kiss you or even . . . ah—”

“Rose Dubois, are you asking me if I’ve ever been intimate with a man?”

“I wasn’t, but now that you’ve said it—well, have you?”

“No, I’m still a virgin—as pure as the day I was born,” Kate said, with another delightful giggle that Rose wished she could imitate. “I was raised on a farm, and it seems like the male of any species gets the better of the bargain: he can satisfy his appetite, then trot away. It’s the female who ends up carrying the load as the result, and bearing the pain of the birthing. I’ve seen enough of that to discourage me from considering it.”

“So no man’s kiss has ever excited you enough to break down that barrier.”

“Not yet, at least.” Kate turned her head and flashed a dimpled smile. “It would have to be some kiss. Now may I ask you a personal question?”

Rose raised a hand to stop her. “I know what you’re going to ask. No, I am not a virgin.”

“Well, did you . . . was it . . . Did you enjoy it enough to risk getting pregnant?”

Did I enjoy it? Wes never even attempted to make it pleasant for me; he just satisfied his own carnal pleasures. Even when I’d close my eyes and try to pretend I loved him, it never worked or made it easier to bear. And after he was through, he’d just roll over, blow out the lamp, and go to sleep. Never a word or a good-night kiss. Not that I wanted one; even his kiss repulsed me.

Did I enjoy it? It was a living hell.

She’d learned the hard way that it was foolish to give yourself in love to any man. Love was a naive, wasted expectation of gullible dreamers, because men were all bastards. Yet comparing Wes’s kiss to Zach MacKenzie’s was like comparing darkness to light—ice to heat. She couldn’t help wondering what would have happened last night if she’d allowed him to continue kissing her. A shiver rippled her spine. She sensed his lovemaking would be as intense as his kiss. He had an air about him that made her believe that his pride would demand he bring the woman to satisfaction. And he certainly had the know-how to do it; his kiss revealed that.

“Well, did you?” Kate repeated, intruding on Rose’s thoughts.

For a few seconds Rose gazed dumbfounded at Kate, wondering how she knew about Zach, then realized Kate was repeating the question she’d asked about lovemaking.

“No, I never enjoyed it, or loved the man enough to want his child.”

“Then why did you ever become intimate with him, Rose?”

“It’s very complicated.” Rose wasn’t ready to tell her about that painful time in her life—so painful she hadn’t even told Emily. But she knew that one day she’d have to let it out. If she didn’t tell someone, it would continue to fester like a cancer within her.

“What if you had become pregnant?”

“Fortunately, Kate, there are ways to prevent getting pregnant.”

“Yes, I’ve heard, but I don’t think I’d ever try one.”

Realizing the conversation had become too glum, Rose turned her head and smiled at the young girl. “So what I’m going to do, honey, is marry for money. Luxury can be a strong ally in fighting disillusionment.”

“Maybe you’re right—but I don’t think I could ever be intimate with a man unless I loved him very much.” Kate flicked the reins and the horses picked up their pace.

When Kate pulled up in front of the barn, Calvin and Effie Wilson came out of their small home. Now too old to work the surrounding farm, the couple was content to spend their remaining years in the house Calvin had built for his young bride over fifty years before.

Although it was customary for the Harvey organization to ship in fresh meat and produce by rail, Fred Harvey often made arrangements with local residents to furnish these products if they lived up to his high standards.

And although Harvey was a taskmaster who demanded his employees honor his rules to the hilt—he’d even been known to fire a manager who cut back on the size of customers’ portions in order to save money—he had a kind heart and had given the egg contract to the Wilsons. He’d even agreed to have the eggs picked up by a Harvey employee so that the old man would not have to make the daily delivery.

“Mornin’, ladies,” Calvin said. “I’ll go get you the eggs.”

“You ladies got time for a cup of coffee?” Effie asked. “Just baked corn bread, and I’ve made apple butter to spread on it. ’Tain’t as fancy as the food in that there restaurant of yours, but you’re welcome to join us.”

Rose knew she and Kate had little time to spare, but she didn’t want to disappoint the couple. This was her second trip to the Wilson farm, and she found them to be so like the grandparents she’d always yearned to have.

“We’d love to, Mrs. Wilson,” she said. “Wouldn’t we, Kate?”

“I’ll say,” Kate agreed. “I haven’t tasted any apple butter since I left my daddy’s farm.”

Both of the Wilsons grinned broadly, then Effie said, “You gals come right along with me. Coffee’s on the hearth.”

As soon as Rose stepped inside, she closed her eyes and breathed in the aroma of the tiny house. It reminded her of a country store: a delightful blend of cinnamon, candles, beeswax, apples, and dried flowers.