Deborah Camp (5 page)

From the loft he looked down at her. “I don’t know you either, but I’ll take my chances. I guess we’d all
better sleep with our guns under our pillows just to be on the safe side.” He turned and disappeared from sight.

Listening to the
clump-clump
of his boots on the floorboards, Cassie fumed as her mind raced to find an escape from this trap he’d pushed her into. She looked toward Oleta but found no help there. The girl was busy setting the table—three places. Moaning, Cassie conceded, suddenly too weary to keep up the fight. When Andy cried softly from his cradle in her bedroom, she went gladly to him, eager to hold him and find peace in the blue depths of his eyes and in the sweet scent of his soft skin.

Cuddling her baby, she sat in the rocker and spoke nonsense until he stopped crying and watched her intently. What had she done to calm herself and make her troubles go away before she’d had her baby? she wondered, jiggling him so that he’d smile. Her gaze skittered to her bed and the rag doll resting there. Ah, yes. She had held Miss Tess. Her doll was showing wear from the years of being hugged and squeezed and cried upon. Andy jabbered happily, and Cassie imagined the day when he would speak his first real word and not just papapa or mamama or googoogoo.

“Gapahdah,” Andy said, then gurgled and spit up milk.

Cassie grabbed a diaper and wiped his chin and lips. Wouldn’t it be her luck if his first word was “Papa”? That would be another thorn in her heart, for her little son had no pa, and she couldn’t ever see herself giving him one. Men were trouble. Yes, they had their good points—like spurs—but she sure didn’t need a permanent one in her life. She liked being her own boss and not having to please someone else or ask permission to do something or go somewhere. All her life she’d been
asking. She enjoyed doing the telling now.

Standing up, she placed Andy on the bed and changed his diaper. She kept her ears tuned to the other rooms, hearing the scrape of chair legs on the floor, the squeak of wood, the clatter of dishes.

“Supper,
señora!
” Oleta called to her.

“Coming.” Picking up a quilt and Andy, Cassie entered the main room again. As she suspected,
he
was sitting at the table, fork in one hand, spoon in the other. Cassie arranged the quilt on the floor and sat Andy in the middle of it. She scattered toys around him—wooden blocks, a cloth horse, a rag doll, and his favorite, a gourd that made discordant music when he shook it. “You play while Mama eats, then I’ll feed you,” she told him.

“I will take the food out to the men,” Oleta said, carrying a tray loaded with two big bowls of beans, four pieces of bread, and half a blackberry pie.

“I’ll wait for you,” Cassie said, taking her place at the other end of the table from her unwanted guest. “
We
will wait for you to get back.”

Drew smiled and made no move to serve himself. “You make them eat out there, do you?”

“They like their privacy. So do I.”

“What happened to all the horses? Are they out to pasture?”

“Other than the ones we ride, there are only two, and they’re grazing along Two Forks Creek, I reckon.”

He lowered his dark auburn brows. “Did you sell the others?”

“There weren’t any others.”

“Hell, there were twenty here when I left.”

“Well, there were five here when I came.” She rested
her elbows on the table and leaned forward. He was scowling, thinking hard about what she’d said and obviously not pleased. “Just where have you been all this time, Junior?”

His eyes became blue steel. “The name’s Drew.”

She looked at the bowl of beans, his gaze too harsh for her to bear. “So where have you been?” she repeated, tempering her sarcasm.

“Down south.”

“Yeah? Doing what with who?” She met his gaze through the veil of her lashes and saw that he resented her question. Being a woman with secrets, she recognized them in others. “Something you don’t want to share? Something you’re ashamed of, maybe?”

He jerked his head toward the front door. “Gabe and T-Bone haven’t been talking about me?”

“Not a word. They didn’t think you’d ever show your face around here again.”

“I can understand that.”

“Good for you. Now, how about letting me in on it? What have you been doing while I’ve been working this ranch?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You’ve been working the ranch, marrying an old man, having his baby. You’ve been mighty busy.”

“Yes, I have,” she agreed. She noticed his relieved smile when Oleta came back inside.

“Can we eat now?” he asked.

“After Oleta says her prayer,” Cassie said. “She was raised up Catholic and she won’t take a bite until she thanks the Lord.”

He smiled warmly at the girl as she joined them at the table. “Go right ahead.”

While Oleta said grace in Spanish, Cassie swore at herself for feeling snubbed by Blue Eyes. She didn’t like the way he turned on the charm for Oleta while he treated her like a bad habit he wanted to shake. Ladies’ man, she thought. When he spots a green girl, he can’t help but move in for the deflowering. She’d have to protect Oleta from him. “Amen,” Oleta said to signal the end of her prayer.

“Amen,” Drew said, his voice sounding deep and strange in the female household.

Oleta spooned beans into his bowl, then Cassie’s, while Cassie scowled at her. The girl was a fool for a handsome face.

“Our… supper guest was getting ready to tell all about his adventures while he’s been away from the Square D,” Cassie said, smiling to herself for making him grimace. “Go ahead and tell us—Drew.” She expelled his name, her lips puckered as if she were sucking on a persimmon.

Studying those petal-pink lips, Drew suddenly wanted desperately to kiss them.
That’s what happens when a man goes years without a woman
, he told himself, tearing his gaze from her mouth and mentally slapping chains on the beast raging within him. He dragged his napkin across his lips, giving himself a few more seconds to bring his rampant lust under control. The first chance he got, he’d go into town and hire himself a woman for an hour or two, he promised himself. That would cure what ailed him.

“So where have you been, Blue Eyes?” she asked again, a smug smile curving her lips.

Those lips … those sultry bedroom eyes … Blue Eyes? He cocked an eyebrow, encouraged that she’d noticed
his eyes. Hell, what was wrong with him? He didn’t want the woman’s attention. He wanted her to leave!

“Mexico? Texas?” she probed, prodding him as if he were a stray bull. “Maybe you spent your days on a gambling boat or panning for gold?”

“Gold? You find gold?” Oleta asked, eyes shining.

Drew shoveled food into his mouth and methodically chewed and swallowed it, making them wait a while longer. Like a dog with a bone, the woman just wouldn’t let go, he thought, glaring at Cassie. Maybe she already knew. T-Bone or Gabe might have told her, and she was doing this to get under his skin.

All right, then. He’d tell her, and it wouldn’t change a thing. This ranch would still be his, and she and her baby would still be squatters.

“I haven’t been looking for gold and I haven’t been traveling on the river,” he said, keeping his gaze trained on Cassie’s face to gobble up every twinge, every quirk. “I’ve been in prison.”

Only the slightest narrowing of her eyes gave her away. His admiration for her grew. Oleta, on the other hand, gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes were large and frightened.

“Prison,” Cassie repeated. “Did they let you out or did you break out?”

“They let me out. My sentence was overturned.”

Her brown eyes tested him, measured him, pieced him together. “What were you in for?”

“Cattle rustling.”

That sent her backward in her chair. Her spoon clattered to her plate. “Whose cattle?”

“Neighboring ranchers. They were found on the Square D, but I didn’t take them.”

“So who took them?”

“Damned if I know. Maybe your husband did, hoping I’d get thrown in prison.”

“Your own pa thought you were guilty?”

Drew pushed aside his plate, his appetite withering. “He knew better, but he didn’t open his mouth to speak in my favor. His silence was enough to make the folks around here believe I was guilty.”

“So you’re a black sheep in these parts?”

“I don’t know what people think about me and I don’t give a good goddamn. I’m innocent, and I’m picking up my life and getting on with it.”

She folded her arms and settled more comfortably in the chair. “Why would you steal cattle when you’ve got a ranch full of them?”

“We’d lost cattle and the old man blamed me. He said they got through a fence I was supposed to repair. Anyway, he was madder than a wet hen, and we had one helluva fistfight over it.” He noticed her lowered brows. “Once I got big enough, I traded him punch for punch. When I was little, I had to take his blows. You’re lucky he died on you or your son would have been his next punching bag.”

She shook her head, looking at the baby, who was waving his arms and gurgling happily. “If he’d laid one finger on my child, I would have packed our bags and left him.” She cleared her throat. “So you two had a fight.”

He nodded, picking up his story. “And then prime cattle started turning up missing from the neighboring
ranches. They were found in that gully out by Two Forks Creek.”

“I know it,” she said, picturing the secluded area in the far southern portion of the ranch.

“When the sheriff questioned the old man about it, he turned on me and yelled that nobody told me to go stealing cattle to replace the ones I let get away.” The memory scorched him, and he gritted his teeth against the bitter anger. “I was arrested, and I swear the old devil was grinning when the sheriff took me away.”

“Nobody spoke up for you?”

“Monroe did.”

“He never mentioned you to me either.”

“Folks figured I wouldn’t ever show my face here again, so they put me out of their minds. I was sentenced to fifty years, so I was as good as dead to them.”

“Fifty years!” She ran a finger across her lips in thoughtful repose. “How long you been out?”

“A few weeks. I collected my horse first.”

“Where did you board him?”

“Texas, near the border.”

“He’s a beauty.”

“He’s the future of this ranch.”

“This is a cattle ranch.”

“You sound like the old man.” He nodded when Oleta offered him a wedge of pie. “I’ve got a way with horses. I know them. I can make money off them. Cattle have never sparked my interest.”

“Well, me and cattle get along just fine.”

He grinned. “I don’t doubt that. They’re stubborn and not too bright.”

She flung down her napkin, her eyes blazing. “You calling me stupid, mister?”

“Nope, but I’m wondering how smart you are to be hanging around out here when you could take your baby into town and find yourself another husband to help you raise him. I don’t mind giving you a little money to get you started.”

“And I don’t mind shoving your money and your advice right back into your face!” When Oleta whimpered, Cassie shot the girl a quelling look. “Calm down,” she told her. “She’s always afraid someone’s going to get hurt once voices are raised. Quit your trembling, Oleta, and cut me a piece of that pie.” She redirected her gaze to him. “Speaking of not being too bright, have you noticed that we seem to be talking in circles?”

“I noticed.”

“The only way you’re going to make me leave is in a pine box. I’ve got as much right to be here as you do. I’m Mrs. A. J. Dalton, like it or not.”

He couldn’t resist. “Did
he
like it?”

Color stained her cheeks and her eyes darkened. “Yeah, Junior, he sure did. He liked it just dandy.” She ran her hands down her sides, flaunting her feminine shape. Defiance glinted in her eyes, shaming him. She stood, leaving the pie Oleta had sliced for her untouched, and picked up her baby.

“I’m going to bed,” she said, not looking at either of them. Striding to her room, she stopped at the window by the front door and released a whispered oath.

“What is it?” Drew asked, rising from his chair.

“Somebody’s out by the corral. That fire-breathing horse of yours is racing around like he’s holed up with a swarm of hornets. It’s probably the same vermin who dropped by earlier today.” She spun around at the sound
of a rifle being readied. She hadn’t sensed him moving, but he was across the room and had taken down the Winchester from above the fireplace. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

His eyes were cold, blue steel. “I’m going to shoot me some vermin, skin them, and nail their hides to the fence posts to warn off any other scavengers.”

He strode past her and ducked outside before she could stop him. Shoving the baby at Oleta, she tried not to surrender to the panic billowing inside her.

“Hell’s afire,” she complained bitterly. “All we need is a trigger-happy convict around here. Take little Andy and keep low, Oleta.”

“Where are you going?” the girl asked, her voice shaking.

“Outside to get shot, probably.” Then, in a crouch, Cassie left the house, and the darkness swallowed her up.

R
unning from cover to cover, Cassie made her way across the porch yard toward the barn. She passed near the bunkhouse and could hear the strumming of Gabe’s guitar and his wavering tenor. No wonder they hadn’t heard anything with Gabe wailing like a cat in heat!

Ahead of her she thought she saw a figure slinking near the skittish stallion. The horse reared and pawed the air, eyes rolling to show white. A shrill whistle, two short notes, pierced the air, and the stallion immediately placed all four hooves on the ground. He lowered his head, ears laid back, and went as still as a statue. Another whistle, lower and longer, and the horse whirled and trotted to the opposite side of the corral.

I’ll be shuck
, Cassie thought, impressed with the horse’s training. Maybe Blue Eyes wasn’t all brag when he said he had a way with horses.

Peering through the darkness, she saw a shadow move and lengthen across the corral. Her ears picked up the rattle of pebbles and the scrape of boots.