Deborah Camp (32 page)

She walked as steadily as she could toward the front of the barn, where Gabe and T-Bone spoke in hushed voices. She didn’t like the sound of those whispers, didn’t like the stealthy feeling she encountered as she approached them. They were saddling their horses.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, their behavior superseding her own tremulous fears.

T-Bone and Gabe spun around, their eyes wide, their mouths moving, but no sounds emerging from them. Cassie ran her gaze over the horses, saddled and fitted for long rides.

“Is somebody going to say something?” Cassie demanded, propping her hands on her hips and glaring at them. “What are you two up to?”

Gabe looked imploringly at T-Bone. “You tell her.”

T-Bone looked down at his scuffed boots. “We… me and Gabe here… we’re clearing out.”

Once again she was dizzy, and her breathing came in short gasps. “What do you mean? Where are you headed? And why?” For a moment she thought that Gabe was going to bust out and cry. He turned away and checked the belly straps on the saddles.

“We don’t want to…” T-Bone cleared his throat. “We don’t want to work for a cattle rustler.”

Cold fury washed over Cassie, and she had to ball her hands into fists and cross her arms tightly to keep from striking T-Bone. “You
don’t
work for a cattle rustler, but if you want to leave, then get, you yellow-bellied devil dogs!”

The events of the night shredded the last modicum of her civility. Staring at the shocked expressions of T-Bone and Gabe, she wanted to scream and kick and cry until all the anger and frustration writhing in her were
spent. Instead she pushed her face close to T-Bone’s and gave his chest a thump.

“You cowards! I thought you were going to stick with me through thick and thin. What happened? Did someone offer you better wages? Is Drew making you work instead of letting you laze around most of the day? You’re the ones who talked nice about him when he first got here and told me to trust him, and now you’re running out on us? Running scared, more like it. You afraid a bullet meant for him will hit you like what happened to Ice?”

“You got trouble here,” Gabe said, his voice almost a whine. “The sheriff ain’t looking at nobody but Drew. He’s done made up his mind that Drew is the one.”

“What if he has?” Cassie said, rounding on Gabe and making him retreat a few steps. “What’s that got to do with how
you
think?” Suddenly she was weary and wanted nothing more than to be alone with her thoughts, to take a long bath and wash the stench of Wilhite’s sickly sweet cologne from her skin, to kiss her son and sort through what she would do next. “Get,” she said, her voice gruff. “I don’t need any spineless cowards around me. You’re nothing but sheep, following whoever is wearing the loudest bell.”

Shouldering past them, she walked to the house, each step weighted, her knees wobbly and shaking. Once inside she stood by the window and watched. She didn’t have to wait for long. Within minutes Gabe and T-Bone rode from the barn and across the flat land. They rode toward the Star H.

She sat in the rocker, where she had been sitting since two in the morning. A small-framed woman with pale
blond hair spilling over her narrow shoulders, one hand gripping a gleaming Winchester rifle, the other gripping the arm of the rocker. Back and forth she moved, her gaze locked on the door, her ears tuned for any sound. She fairly quivered with anxiety.

When a mouse scratched at the corner of the fireplace, her gaze darted there. She assessed the noise and then returned her gaze to the door. She imagined the grinning, one-eyed man opening that door. She would lift the rifle, aim, and blow a hole through him. When she pictured this, she felt no triumph, no elation, only relief.

The one-eyed man had been trespassing on her life ever since she was a child. Maybe even before that, before she had memory, when he had both eyes. Perhaps he had even met her as an infant and called her honey lamb and had reached out to stroke her soft, round cheek and breathe upon her, marking her for life. She wouldn’t be surprised.

Because he stalked her like a shadow, she had decided she could not dodge him or deflect him. If he came around her again, she would kill him and face her punishment. But even if he kept his distance, his curse was upon her, and she couldn’t shake it. She would have to confess all to Drew. Buck Wilhite had given her no choice. Now that someone from her buried past had popped up like a mushroom to poison her new life, the word would eventually leak out about her days as Little Nugget. She wanted to be the one to tell Drew. She owed him that much. But once she told him of her former life, she would lose him forever.

Cassie heard the pat of Oleta’s bare feet on the floorboards, and she stood and placed the rifle in its holder above the mantel. The rooster crowed. Another day. She
yawned and flexed her arms, her shoulders, then went to check on her son. He was awake, and she lifted him from his bed and kissed him, held him, inhaled the scent of his silky skin.

“You’re already dressed,” Oleta noted.

“Been up for hours,” Cassie said. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Wouldn’t
sleep. Not with that one-eyed coyote skulking around and no Drew to protect her. “I’ll wash Andy, and you can fix us some breakfast.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t bother fixing extra for T-Bone and Gabe.”

“Why not?”

“They left.”

“Left?” Oleta blinked owlishly at her. “Where did they go?”

Cassie shrugged. “I don’t know. They just left. They said they didn’t want to work here anymore, and I told them to make tracks.” Turning on her heels, she went into the kitchen and prepared a pan of warm wash water for Andy.

After throwing on some clothes, Oleta came bustling into the kitchen. She was obviously bursting with questions, but she went ahead and built up the fire in the stove and put a skillet on top, letting it get hot.

“But why would they leave?” she asked Cassie, spreading out her hands in supplication. “They like
Señor
Drew.”

“I guess they don’t like him enough. They think he’s a cattle rustler.”

“No, no!” Oleta placed her hands against her round cheeks and shook her head. “He is not! I can’t believe T-Bone and Gabe would think this of him.”

“Well, they do. The sheriff’s visits spooked them, I
guess. Or they might have gotten offers over at the Star H. Wouldn’t surprise me if they were working there right now.”

“Señor
Hendrix would hire them when he knows they are your only cowhands?”

“Sure, can’t you hear him, Oleta?” She fashioned a stern and condescending expression. “‘Now, Cassie, those two are good cattle men and they wanted to work here. Men don’t like to work for a woman. I’ve told you that many a time, haven’t I? Don’t you see that you can’t run this place? You need a man to help you.’ Then he’d move in and try to kiss me or put his hand on my breast.”

Oleta smothered a giggle with a hand pressed against her lips. Her dark eyes danced.

“Señor
Hendrix acts like he’s trying to help, but mostly he tries to make my life harder than month-old bread.” Having undressed Andy, Cassie stood him in the shallow pan she’d set on the side table and lathered his pudgy body with soap. He squealed and stomped his feet, sending water everywhere. “Stop that, you bad boy,” Cassie said, laughing. “You just love to make a mess, don’t you?”

Oleta laughed and kissed the top of Andy’s head. “You will hire more men?”

“I don’t know. I’ll leave that to Drew, I reckon.”

Oleta lifted a brow. “You have turned over everything to him?”

“No… I…” She shrugged. Once she told him she used to be a whore, she figured she’d be lucky if he didn’t run her off the ranch.

“Something is wrong.” Oleta, eggs in hands, turned from the stove and studied Cassie intently. “You did
not sleep. Your eyes have no light in them, not even when you laugh. What has happened?”

“My two hands quit, that’s what.” Cassie busied herself with bathing her son, keeping her face down and averted from the girl’s prying eyes. “I want two eggs this morning and flapjacks. My belly’s growling.”

Her belly
was
empty—empty like the rest of her—but she wasn’t hungry. However, her ploy worked, because Oleta returned to her task of preparing breakfast. Cassie dried Andy’s squirming body and dressed him in overalls and a red shirt. She put soft socks and shoes on his fat feet, kissing his soles and toes first.

No matter what happened to her, she had her baby. Her sweet, laughing baby. She smiled, trying to fill herself up with the love she felt for her son. But the emptiness persisted. She knew why. She had lost Drew. He didn’t know it yet, but she knew, and the pain of that inevitable parting was almost unbearable.

They sat at the table to share breakfast, two quiet young women and a squealing, giggling baby with apple juice dribbling down his chin and pieces of soft-boiled egg and toasted bread decorating his bib.

After a while, Cassie sat back and looked at the dark-eyed girl who had become almost like a sister to her. Oddly, that realization struck her a blow, and she found herself wanting to talk to Oleta sister to sister.

“You ever do something you were really ashamed of, Oleta? Something that you don’t want anybody else to know about? Something that at the time you just did because you couldn’t see any way out of not doing it?”

Fear crept into Oleta’s eyes. “I went to confession once and did not tell the priest about my papa… about
him beating me and trying to t-touch me. That was the same as lying to the
padre
, wasn’t it?”

“If that’s the worst thing you can think of, then you don’t have anything to worry about.” Cassie pointed to the ceiling. “God knew what your papa was doing already, and He provided a way of escaping him. Me.” She smiled and reached across the table to squeeze Oleta’s brown hand. “I’ve done some very bad things.”

“You kill someone?”

“No, unless you can count my own self-worth. I killed that.” She watched Andy cram egg into his mouth. “I’m going to have to tell Drew about the bad things I did before I came here. When I do, I don’t reckon he’ll want to be around me.”

“He will make you leave?”

“Maybe. If he wants me to go, I’ll go.”

“And I will go with you.” Oleta sat straighter, her shoulders pulled back like a soldier’s.

“You don’t have to—”

“I
want
to!”

“After you learn about what I did—”

“I don’t care. You are good to me. Have always been good to me. Whatever you did, if you ask God to forgive you, He will. I can do no less than Him.”

The girl’s staunch friendship warmed Cassie’s heart. “I have asked for forgiveness. Many, many times.”

Oleta placed a hand on Cassie’s shoulder. “You only have to ask once. It is enough for God.”

“You don’t have to leave. You should stay here and take care of
Señor
Drew.”

“He did not offer me his hand and open up his home to me when I was in need. You did. I will go with you and help you with your baby.”

“I don’t know where I’ll go, how I’ll live.”

“We will be fine,” Oleta assured her. “Besides,
Señor
Drew might not want you to go.”

“Don’t count on that.”

They fell quiet, and in the silence the pounding of hooves could be heard in the distance. Cassie stiffened. Oleta went to the window.

“It’s them,” she said softly.
“Señor
Drew and Ice. They are covered in dirt and look very, very tired.”

“They’ve been riding since before sunup, I guess, to get here this early in the day.” Cassie gripped the edge of the table and forced herself to her feet. “Guess we ought to rustle up some breakfast for them.”

The thump of boots on the porch and the rattle of the handle preceded Drew’s entrance. He filled the cabin with his very maleness, all brawn and brown and redolent of the trail and its cornucopia of scents.

“I’m home!” he announced, his gaze moving briefly to Oleta and then clinging to Cassie. “I’m home,” he repeated softly just to her.

Her heart bloomed.

Andy pounded his fists on the table and gurgled happily.

“Hey, there, half-pint,” Drew said, sparing a glance for the baby.

“Dada!” Andy said, clear as a bell.

Cassie’s heart caved in on itself. Drew smiled and pink tinged his cheeks. He shrugged, clearly at a loss how to respond to Andy’s name for him. Cassie could tell he expected her to embrace him or at the very least to tell him she was glad to see him again, glad he was safe and sound. Instead she turned away from him.

“How many eggs do you want?” she asked, already
cracking two at once and letting them slide into the hot skillet.

“That’s it?” Drew said from behind her. “Aren’t you even going to say howdy, stranger?”

Ice came inside, making the house seem smaller still. “Fry me up a dozen of those eggs,” he said, sitting at the table. “I am so saddle sore the seat of this chair feels like eiderdown.” He looked from Drew to Cassie to Oleta and frowned, obviously sensing something amiss. “What’d I do?”

“Nothing.” Drew hung his hat on the peg. “Let’s you and me wash up while these women cook. We shouldn’t sit at the table with trail dirt still caked on our hair and skin.”

“Right. Forgive me.” Ice shot up from the chair and went back outside.

Drew stepped closer to Cassie and laid a hand on her arm. “You okay?”

“Fine. Just fine,” she said, almost snapping.

“Hmm.” His fingers slipped away. “We’ll talk later.”

She tried not to flinch from that promise but felt the constriction of muscle, the rebellion against destiny. She released her pent-up breath with his leaving. The eggs fluttered in the skillet, and hot grease leapt and landed on her hand, blistering the skin. She wiped away the greasy droplets, feeling no pain. The emptiness opened within her again, more agonizing than blisters or burns, more terrifying than any thoughts of being ousted from this ranch.

She had been empty inside for a long spell, but she’d come here to fill herself up, and she had. To the brim, she had. But thanks to a one-eyed snake, she’d sprung
a leak and she could feel everything good draining out of her.