How to Lasso a Cowboy (18 page)

Seth wanted to race the buggy toward his sister but the woman's words echoed in his mind.
Fragile. Nightmares. Fear.

The thought that he might hurt Marilee stabbed him deeper than any bayonet could. Did he really have the right to take her from a place where she felt safe?

One fact came hammering at him. His sister had been at the ranch when he had ridden up. Had she been hiding in fear?

Because of him.

Because of Delaney, whose men had killed her father in front of her.

And because of the McGuires, who'd had a role in Delaney's scheme.

Damn it, why hadn't the woman just said Marilee was there?

He looked away, afraid he would say something or do something he would regret.

“Tell me more about her,” he demanded, still struggling to control his anger.

“She's smart and pretty. And tenderhearted. She's always bringing in wounded creatures.”

“And now she's wounded herself.” His voice was a whisper. He was barely aware of saying the words. They hurt too much.

His need to return home had been the only thing that had saved him after watching his brothers die. Fury replaced that need when he'd discovered his father dead, his brother gone, and his sister missing.

That coursing anger had been barely controlled as he suffered through the time it took for a bath and shave. He knew they were necessary—otherwise he'd realized he would frighten anyone, especially a young child who had no clear memory of him.

He had nursed his anger as he had traveled down the road back to the ranch. He had felt it building to a crescendo inside. And then he had heard the shots and the yells. . . .

He had immediately recognized the rebel cry. Abe had said that lawlessness was rampant. The federal authorities blamed the chaos on the Texans who were returning from the war. They were being accused of raiding ranches, stealing cattle, and even of murder. One of those being blamed was his brother Dillon.

But when he saw the woman in the buggy, he knew that Dillon was not among the masked men. Seth hadn't seen him in almost five years but he remembered his brother as the softhearted member of the family. He might attack McGuire but never a lone woman.

Nor could he imagine any of his boyhood friends doing so.

And there was the matter of the rebel cry. That would surely bring the army. Why would anyone be so foolish as to advertise a lost cause?

Unless someone was trying to shift blame.

The thought came quickly to his mind. Abe had hinted that someone else was behind the lawlessness.

He wished he had seen more of her attackers, but they had been masked in addition to wearing hats that covered the color of their hair. Their horses had included two bays, a sorrel, and a chestnut. He filed the information in his mind.

After riding in silence for a long time, he looked at his companion. “I don't know your name.”

“Elizabeth. Sarah Elizabeth McGuire.” The woman's shy smile transformed the plain, blunt face with the upturned nose. It came alive, as did her eyes, and an unwanted, unbidden jolt of lust rocked him.

He tried to dismiss it. It was only because he hadn't been close to a woman in years, not since the early years of the war when young officers had been eagerly sought guests in southern homes. But then came months of marching, of bitter battles, of land laid to waste. And finally imprisonment where he either froze in the winter or suffered hot humid summers, both with too little food and too much sickness.

Seth told himself she was the enemy. She and her father had taken something not theirs without a thought for those who had lived and died for the acres.

“You said she was fragile. How fragile?”

“She has nightmares. She's terrified of strangers. Especially men in uniform.”

He wanted to say he wasn't a stranger, but he knew he would be to his sister. She'd just started toddling when he last saw her.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. His hands tightened around the reins. He knew the anguish he'd felt in seeing his brothers die. He couldn't even imagine how his sister had felt when her father—their father—was killed in front of her.

“Were you there?”

“No. We came . . . not long after. A . . . friend told us there was good land to be had.”

“Delaney?”

She stared at him. “How . . . ?”

“News travels fast. A lot of people are unhappy with your ‘friend.' ”

“It wasn't him,” she said defensively. “And he's not my friend.”

“Your father's friend, then.”

“The property was going to be sold,” she said. “Someone would have bought it.”

He couldn't really argue with that. The ranches and farms had been sold for the taxes, a fraction of what the properties were worth. Still, he couldn't resist a comment. “He had to know what was happening, that it was little more than theft.”

Her face flushed and her lips firmed into a tight line.

Only a small twinge of guilt bit at him. She was at least complicit with the theft of his family's land. “How did Marilee come to live with you?” he asked, hungry to know more.

“There didn't seem to be anyone else.”

He turned and looked at her. Really looked at her.

There didn't seem to be anyone else.

The words were worse than the thrust of a sword would have been. He should have been there. God knew his family needed him more than a lost cause had.

“And my brother? Dillon?” He already knew from Abe but he wanted her to tell him.

“I have never seen him,” she said. “I just know he's an outlaw.”

“I understand he was trying to defend my father,” he said.

She didn't say anything.

“You didn't tell Marilee about me today?”

“I wasn't sure you were who you said you were. Everyone said you were dead.”

“Wishful thinking?”

She flushed. “You had not returned when the others did, and you looked . . .”

“Like I hadn't had a bath in weeks,” he said. “I hadn't. I was in a Yankee prison since May of last year. I caught
some fever—I was in a hospital another month after my release. Then I had to make my way mostly on foot, stopping occasionally to try to earn enough money for food. It didn't matter. I was coming home.”

The last words were bitter. Biting.

“And now?” she asked softly.

“I plan to claim what's mine,” he said, “and find out who killed my father. God help anyone who gets in the way.”

He turned down the road leading to what used to be the Taylor ranch, the home of his best friend, Jack. He too had disappeared in the maelstrom of war.

Two children were playing with a puppy at the front of the house. They looked up as the buggy approached. One was a dark-haired boy, the other a pretty girl with golden hair and blue eyes. She looked at the carriage, then saw him and ran for the front door.

His heart dropped at his sister's obvious panic.

“You are a stranger to her,” the McGuire woman said.

He remembered what he had told her. He wouldn't take his sister by force. But could he really leave her with a man who had stolen his family's land, an opportunist? A thief, to his way of thinking.

He stopped the buggy and stepped down. It was automatic to him that he go around to the other side and help her step down. He grasped her fingers and heat raced through him.

The startled look on her face told him she'd experienced the same unwanted current.

Nothing could be more foolish. He intended to get her off his land. He would take his sister and find his brother and right all the wrongs. She had no place in that picture.

“I'll be back,” she said. “Stay here.” She walked rapidly to the adobe ranch house before he could object.

He wanted to go after her, but Elizabeth's words lingered in his mind.
She is fragile.
As much as he wanted Marilee, he couldn't bear causing her more pain.

And he had promised. Not promised exactly but agreed to be patient.

He
would
get everything. His sister. His family's land. His brother's freedom.

No matter the cost.

ELIZABETH
found Marilee in the kitchen and stooped to give her a hug.

“It's all right, sweetpea,” she said. “The man with me . . . he's your brother.”

She shook her head. “Not Dillon.”

“Another brother. You heard your father talk about Seth?”

Marilee looked up with wide eyes. “Seth is dead. Father said so.”

“He didn't die.”

“Then why has he been gone?”

“He couldn't come back until now. He was hurt.”

“Hurt?”

“Sick,” Elizabeth said. “But now he is home and he wants to see you.” She couldn't bear to say the words,
He wants to take you.
Marilee shivered in her arms. “Is he the man who came this morning?”

Elizabeth suddenly realized that Marilee must have seen more than she had relayed.

“Yes. He didn't know you were there. I should have told him but I didn't. I wasn't sure . . .”

“Did he come to get me?”

“I think he would like to meet you and maybe . . .”

“I don't want to leave you. I don't like him. He looked . . . scary.”

“He looked tired and hungry. He had traveled a very long way to see you.”

It was a lie. Seth Sinclair
had
looked scary. He still looked scary. Cold. Angry.

Dangerous
.

But Marilee had stiffened. She looked ready to flee. Fear shone in her eyes. “I don't want to go out.”

“I'll be with you.”

“No! Please don't make me go away.” Marilee's eyes widened and Elizabeth saw in them the ragged, dirty figure the child had seen earlier.

She also saw in her mind's eye the pain she had seen in Seth Sinclair's eyes just minutes earlier. He had lost everything. She felt at least partly responsible.

He had unquestionably saved her life. At the risk of his own. That realization had taken hold.

Despite his claim that he thought Marilee might be in the buggy, he'd been close enough to see the child was not in the buggy before he leaned over to grasp the reins.

Would he just take his sister, regardless of the harm he might cause her?

Miriam Findley walked in the room, her eyes questioning.

“Seth Sinclair is with me,” Elizabeth explained. She couldn't say any more, not with Marilee listening. She couldn't let her hear about the terrifying ride and the masked outlaws. She wasn't even sure she wanted to tell Miriam.

“Sinclair?” Miriam's eyes widened.

“One of the sons who went to war,” she said. Then she realized he hadn't said anything about his brothers. She knew there had been four.

“Dear God,” Miriam said. “Another one.”

Elizabeth gave her a warning look, then looked down at Marilee.

Miriam didn't take the hint. “I suppose he's as vicious as his brother. Why on earth did you bring him here?”

“Marilee is his sister.”

“I don't want him on our property.”

“He hasn't done anything.”

“You know Dillon Sinclair is responsible for the rustling and murdering going on. How could you have anything to do with—”

“I don't know anything of the kind,” she said, knowing Marilee was hearing every word. She found herself defending a man she'd so easily condemned just hours before.

She took Marilee's hand. “We have to go.”

Marilee pulled back. “I don't—”

“I won't let him take you, sweetpea,” she said, “but we have to get home. Papa will be frantic with worry.”

If he was even home yet.

Seth Sinclair obviously wasn't welcome here, and she wasn't going to go out and tell him he had to leave without seeing his sister. Not after . . .

She knew she shouldn't have given the promise to Marilee. It was a promise she was physically unable to enforce. She could not keep him from taking his own flesh and blood. She could only rely on his sense of decency and love for a sister.

If she was wrong . . .

Delaney would help her if she asked him. He would make sure Marilee stayed with her. But at what price? He had been courting her in a leisurely fashion, obviously sure that his suit would be accepted. He was important, and she wasn't. She was certainly not the most attractive woman around. She had, in fact, no idea why he troubled himself, but her father had asked her to be pleasant to him, and she had.