Deborah Camp (20 page)

Cassie mirrored Viola’s smile. “I’ll tell him you said so, Viola. He probably has no idea you set such store in him.”

Viola narrowed her eyes and picked up the reins. “I’ll be back to speak with Mr. Dalton personally, so that there is no distortion of my friendly and respectful feelings for him. I wouldn’t want him to think I sought anything more than his kind regard.” She flicked the reins and the buggy set off.

Cassie whirled about and marched to the house. That uppity witch! What gave her the idea that Drew would be the least bit interested in eating her chicken or sharing her company? Nothing worse that a woman running after a man who wasn’t even aware she was alive.

She slammed into the house, making Oleta jump with
alarm and so scaring Andy that he released a yowling wail.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Cassie cooed, bending close to Andy and kissing his chubby cheek. He sat in his high chair, a few toys scattered on the supper table in front of him. “Hush, now. Mama didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Is your work done for the day?” Oleta asked.

“Yeah.” Cassie sat at the kitchen table and pulled off her boots. Her feet stung inside her damp socks.

“What’s in the basket?” Oleta asked, eyeing Viola’s offering, which Cassie had dropped just inside the door.

“Viola Danforth brought some food for Drew. I guess she figures if she feeds him, he’ll beg her to marry him just to get at her recipes.”

Oleta giggled and peeked inside the basket. “Smells good.”

“Put it out tonight for supper. We might as well eat it, since Drew can’t.”

“He should be back soon,
sí?
”

“Tonight or tomorrow.” She tried to imagine Will Quentin’s reaction when Drew told him about finding the cattle on Square D land. “Hope there wasn’t any trouble,” she murmured.

“You like each other now, don’t you?” Oleta asked.

Cassie frowned. “We’re partners.”

“T-Bone says
Señor
Drew took Ice with him because he didn’t want to leave him here with you.”

“What?” Cassie squawked. “That’s plumb stupid. T-Bone’s mouth is running wild like a river.”

Oleta gave a shy shrug. “T-Bone and Gabe think
Señor
Drew has gone soft on you.”

Despite herself, Cassie smiled. She turned away from Oleta, embarrassed by her own pleasure. Drew soft on
her? The thought sent a wave of giddiness through her that she had to clamp down on before she actually giggled with delight and made an even bigger fool of herself in front of Oleta.

“I’ve got to wash up,” she announced, rising from the chair. “Heat some water for my bath, will you?”

“Sí.”

“And quit your grinning,” Cassie said, but she was grinning, too.

“
Sí,”
Oleta said, blatantly disobeying.

“Do you think he believed you?” Ice asked as he and Drew rode side by side along a grassy path.

Drew slanted a glance at him. “Quentin, you mean?” When Ice nodded, Drew winced with regret. “There’s no way to tell. He didn’t at first, that’s for sure.”

“Good thing we ran into those two cowhands Quentin had dispatched to the Square D. Talk would have spread like wildfire, and you’d be the goat of the county.”

“I already am that,” Drew said darkly. “You hadn’t noticed?”

“I’m new in town.” Ice grinned. “So you have to prove yourself an honest man. You’ll do it. You’ll make them all eat crow.”

Drew chuckled at the younger man’s optimism and envied him that. The more days Drew lived, the less he believed in hope and justice. “At least I surprised Quentin by bringing his cattle back to him. He couldn’t believe his eyes there for a minute.”

“You did the right thing,
hombre
. That man will have to adjust his opinion of you now.”

“I don’t care what he thinks of me,” Drew said, his anger firing again. He’d been blowing steam by the time
he’d rounded the cattle into a pen near Quentin’s ranch house. When his cattle had come up missing, Quentin had immediately sent his ranch hands to the Square D, having heard that Drew Dalton had been released from prison. Even now Drew ground his teeth in fury when he dwelled on that. He wondered if Will Quentin might be out to get him but had trouble believing it. He hadn’t known the man that well, and Quentin had never shown any interest in the Square D.

He felt Ice’s attentiveness and looked at him curiously. “What are you gawking at? Not my vest again.” He laughed. Ice had been coveting his black vest for weeks.

“If you were a good friend, you would give me that vest.”

Drew ran a hand down the front of it, fingering the silver disk buttons. “Give it to you, huh? How about if I let you try it on? If it fits, I might trade it for that Apache saddle blanket you’ve got in your bedroll.”

“That’s a swap!”

“It won’t fit you.” Drew took off the vest. “My shoulders are broader. I have a man’s chest and yours is still growing.”

“That’s not what all the women tell me,” Ice bragged, grabbing the vest from Drew and slipping his arms into it. It did hang more loosely on him, but he carried it well. Smoothing his palms down the soft leather, he whistled low. “This is one fine garment,
amigo
. I could get any woman I wanted wearing this.”

“Is that all you think about? Getting another woman under you?”

“Sí,”
Ice said. “That and raising horses and getting rich. What else should occupy a man’s mind?”

“Good question.” Drew fell silent, his mind seized with thoughts of Cassie. He’d thought of her often while he’d been away. He couldn’t shake loose of her, not even in his dreams.

“Was your father a good-looking man?” Ice asked, out of the blue.

“Not particularly.” Drew shifted his attention back to Ice, wondering what had spawned that question. He spurred Dynamite to catch up with Ice’s gelding. “Why’d you ask that?”

“Oh, I was thinking about Cassie.”

“What about her?”

“Don’t growl at me like that,” Ice said with a laugh. “I wasn’t thinking about bedding her.”

Drew faced forward, shaken by his own raw emotions.

“I was just wondering what she saw in your father. You know, why she decided to marry him. From what you’ve told me, he was no ladies’ man.”

“No, and he never tried to be. He usually bought his women. In a way, that’s how he got Cassie.”

“He bought her?”

“He advertised for a wife and she answered the call.”

Ice shook his head. “A pretty woman like her? Why’d she do it?”

Another good question, Drew thought. Why did a woman with Cassie’s looks settle for a man like A.J. Dalton? Even if she was nothing but a gold digger, she could have enticed a richer man, a better man. She was always telling him that she’d turned her share of heads, and he believed her, so why had she married A.J.?

“I think you should take the woman into your arms and erase your father from her mind.”

“That’s your answer for everything. You think that
thing between your legs is a magic wand.”

“Ah, but it is! I wave it and women swoon.”

Drew pretended to choke.

“If you need help romancing that woman, you ask your partner here, and I will come to your rescue. I know it has been a long time since you used your own magic wand, and you might have forgotten—”

“I’ve forgotten more than you’ll ever know about pleasuring a woman, son.”

“You are slow, old man.”

“Maybe I don’t want to have anything to do with the lady in question.”

“Your eyes slide over her like a lover’s hand, my friend. Anyone can see that you want her.”

“That’s bull,” Drew denied hotly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Hell, you see romance when a fly sticks to cow dung.”

Ice clucked his tongue, and his horse quickened to a trot, moving ahead of Drew on the trail. “I think this vest is mine now.”

Drew chuckled. “What about that Apache blanket? We had a swap, remember? Hey, get back here, you thief!”

Drew saw Ice jerk and pitch backward off his horse before the sound of the shot reached him. For a split second he couldn’t comprehend what had happened, then he was on the ground in a crouch, his gun drawn, shielding Ice as best he could.

A quick assessment told him that Ice was conscious and bleeding, but from where he couldn’t tell. Drew scanned the area. Trees were thick around them on either side of the trail. He steadied himself and regulated his breathing, trying to make less noise so he could hear any
rustling of leaves, any snapping of branch, any click of ammunition sliding into a chamber. Ice moaned, and Drew pulled his hat down over his face to muffle the sound.

A glint in a thicket riveted his attention, and he waited, his skin beaded with sweat, his mouth coated with a thick, copper paste. He felt like a deer in a clearing. To hell with that.

Grabbing Ice under the arms, he pulled him off the trail and into the bushes. Hunkered beside him, Drew watched for any movement around them, his senses quivering. He checked on Ice and saw that he’d been shot in the back, high on the shoulder. Might have shattered bone. Easing the leather vest off Ice, he examined the wound through Ice’s torn shirt and saw bone fragments. Not good.

“How is it?”

“Bastard shot you in the back,” Drew said, avoiding the real answer.

“Who was it?”

“I never got a look at him. Hell, I don’t even know where the shot came from.”

“Me neither.” Ice tried to sit up. “I can ride.”

“You’ll have to, because I can’t do anything for you here.”

After another five minutes or so with no sign of the shooter, Drew whistled for Dynamite. He pressed his bandanna into the wound in Ice’s back to try to dam up the seeping blood. He helped Ice up into the saddle and tied the blanket from his bedroll around him. Ice was shaking, and his face had drained of blood.

“Hang on,” Drew said.

Ice nodded, grabbing the saddle horn with both hands.

Drew went to look for Ice’s horse. Luckily the animal had trotted only a short way down the path. Drew settled him down and climbed into the saddle. He looked back at Dynamite and whistled. Dynamite’s ears stood up as straight as tent posts.

“Come on, son. Follow me.” Drew took one more careful look around before he set his spurs and made for the ranch. The whole way he felt as if he were being watched, hunted. He expected to be gunned down and didn’t relax until he crossed onto his own land. Even then he kept low in the saddle, glancing back from time to time to make sure Ice was still astride Dynamite.

The lights shining in the windows of the ranch house had never looked so good to him, and he sent up a prayer of thanks.

D
ressed for bed in a white nightgown, Cassie slipped on her patchwork robe and padded barefoot from the bedroom into the kitchen. She glanced out the window, wishing for Drew. She’d been sure he and Ice would make it back to the ranch by supper time, but there had been no sign of them.

They probably took a side trip to Abilene to drink and gamble, she told herself. Just like men not to consider others back at home who pace with worry all night long.

She shook off her irritation, realizing she sounded like somebody’s wife. In Drew’s absence she had also realized that she’d grown to depend on his company. It was good that they had found common ground and could get along with each other, but she was a fool to believe that anything more could come from their partnership.

He’s decent, she told herself. Decency was conveyed in the set of his jaw, the glint in his eyes, the straightness of his back. A decent man. An honorable man. If he ever found out about her past, he’d have nothing more to do with her. She should just come right out and tell him, be done with it, but she couldn’t. If she told him,
others would eventually find out, and she’d never live down her past. She couldn’t do that to her son either. She wanted everything beautiful for Andy. She wanted her son’s respect.

Andy. This evening he’d taken his first steps without holding onto something. She’d been overjoyed, and then in the next instant, she’d been sad. Sad because she wished Drew had been there to share in the joyful moment. Drew would have been so proud. He really did have a soft spot for Andy, and Andy couldn’t keep his eyes off Drew. Cassie had noticed how her son watched everything Drew did, how he giggled when Drew showed him any attention, how he waved his fists and kicked his feet excitedly when Drew entered the house at the end of each day. There was a bond between them.

She hadn’t been aware of staring out the window until her vision sharpened on dark shapes moving against the indigo sky. Riders? Cassie gripped the sill and pressed the tip of her nose to the pane, her eyes wide and searching.

“Please make it be Drew,” she whispered, her breath fogging the glass.

Another minute passed before she was sure she recognized the set of his shoulders. Her burst of happiness was tempered by the slumped figure on the other horse. Either Ice was dead tired or he was almost dead.

She ran out to the front porch to wait for them. They came at a lope with Dynamite carrying Ice instead of Drew.

“What’s wrong with him?” Cassie asked when Drew was close enough to hear her.

“Shot,” he answered tersely, swinging out of the saddle before the winded gelding had come to a stop.

“Who shot him?”

“Don’t know.”

In the light spilling from the open door, Cassie saw worry and fatigue etched on Drew’s face, and she hurt right along with him. A rumbling came from the north, and a few seconds later lightning streaked across the sky. She touched Drew’s sleeve. It was damp.

“You think it was Quentin?”

“I doubt it, but I don’t know. I didn’t see the shooter.”

“You been riding in the rain?”

“We rode through some drizzle. I’ve managed to stay ahead of the storm, but it’s coming. Help me get him inside. Can we put him in your bed?”

“Yes.”

He grabbed a handful of the blanket wrapped around Ice and pulled. With no resistance Ice fell sideways off the horse and into Drew’s arms. Drew grunted under the man’s weight. Cassie went around to Ice’s other side and draped his arm around her shoulders. With Ice dangling between them like a side of beef, she and Drew carried him up the porch steps and into the house.