Leslie LaFoy (49 page)

Write him a bank draft to cover the debts her daddy had left him? Jesus. She was a little rich girl turned into a even richer woman. He'd fulfilled his purpose, serving as her daily distraction for as long as it took for Richard Patterson to get on with dying. Now it was done and she could pay Jack Stennett and pack him off to Texas where he belonged. Neat and tidy. Never to be heard from again. His blood shot white-hot through his veins.

He leaned down and Lindsay's heart raced.

“You write me a draft,” he said, his voice hard and low, “and I'll tear it to goddamn shreds. Do you understand me?”

She blinked in shock and he stepped around her, saying, “Don't wait supper for me. I'm not going to be there.”

Again she blocked his path. “Jack,” she gasped, lightheaded from the exertion and the constraints of her corset. “I won't let you walk off angry. What's wrong? Why are you so furious?”

He glowered and then tried to go around and past her. Lindsay quickly stepped into his way. “Jack, please.”

“All right. You want a load of buckshot, Lindsay, I'll give you one,” he ground out, his eyes blazing. “I've had enough and I want to be done with it. I want to go home, climb back into a saddle, ride out over the hills, and sit and look at the land and my cattle. I want to be back where things are simple and straightforward, where people are just what they appear to be, and a man doesn't have to guess what they want and what they're willing to do to get it.

“I'm tired of thinking; tired of trying to find my way in a place I don't know and among people I will never understand. I'm tired of feeling responsible and trying to figure out what's the right thing to do. No one else worries about what's right. Why the hell should I?”

“That's not true, Jack,” she whispered.

“Oh, yeah?” he countered instantly. “Patterson fathered three children and didn't acknowledge them as his until he was dead and six feet under. He's stolen another man's property and everyone thinks it's all right because in the end he's given it to the man's daughter in the name of
birthright and decency. He's flung his own children a fistful of money for them to play with for a while, but he couldn't be bothered to raise them up into decent and honorable human beings.”

He gestured toward the office door behind them. “And Otis Vanderhagen has gone along with the whole scheme because it was the right thing to do for the company? The right thing to do for Lindsay MacPhaull?” Jackson snorted. “Right didn't have a goddamn thing to do with it and you know it. Vanderhagen went along with it because he got paid for his services and because once he was in, there was no way Patterson could get rid of him. Vanderhagen knew enough to blackmail Patterson to hell and back six times. Vanderhagen was guaranteed a slice out of every pie just because he'd been smart enough to jab his fingers into the first one.

“And let's not forget Ben, your lying little two-faced bookkeeper. No, that isn't right,” Jackson quickly corrected. “Ben was right up-front in telling me that everything he'd confide about the business would be with your best interests in mind. I was just stupid enough to believe that Ben was saying he'd be honest in what he did say. I've been the fool and Ben isn't to blame for that.”

“Oh, Jack,” she cried, knowing he was wrong about himself and reaching out to touch him.

“Christ Almighty,” he swore, pushing her hand away. “No wonder Billy took off for Texas and didn't look back. I can't wait to do the same. The day after the auction's done, I'm going to climb aboard the first goddamn ship I can find leaving the harbor and sailing south. And being seasick doesn't matter one bit because I intend to be so damn drunk I won't notice whether I'm on land or sea or hanging by my belt loops from a tree limb forty feet in the air.”

“Will you listen to me?” she asked, wanting to tell him how much she needed him to help her find her way through the new maze that had sprung up around her.

“No,” he said hotly. “I'm not ever going to come back to this place and I'm not ever going to have to deal with these people again, even if I live to be a hundred and fifty.

Otis Vanderhagen can strip a thousand companies blind and it isn't going to be of any concern to me. And Ben can talk out both sides of his mouth until his tongue actually forks and it isn't going to make any difference to my world. Henry and Agatha can bankrupt themselves and each other's sanity and it isn't my problem.

“I couldn't save you people from yourselves even if I tried. And you know what, Lindsay? I don't
have
to try. I was handed a mess to clean up by virtue of being the only man Billy Weathers knew who was stupid enough to walk into it thinking he could. Well, I've come to my senses and I'm getting the hell out. Whatever mess there's left to clean up can just keep on being a mess. Either that or you can clean it up. Dealing with chaos and disaster is your greatest strength. You sure don't need me to do it for you. You don't need me for one goddamn thing.”

“That's not true!” she cried. “Not true at all!”

“Maybe I won't wait for the day after the auction,” he went on, ignoring her. “Maybe I'll sail out the same day. Why waste time? There's no reason to stay. And come to think of it, there isn't any reason to wait until I climb aboard any damn ship to get roaring drunk, either.

“And I'll stay drunk until I have to stagger to the auction tomorrow morning and get the money I need to keep the ranch intact.” He started to turn away, then stopped and turned back to add, “And, by God, I'm not going to take one cent more than what I need. I don't care what the hell happens to the rest of the MacPhaull Company holdings. Primrose and Emile can stuff them and bake them, for all I care.”

Lindsay stood in stunned silence as he turned and strode away. He hated her more than she had ever known was humanly possible. Fool that she was, it didn't make any difference. She loved him with all her heart, all her soul. And always would.

Slowly, she turned and walked up the street, heading back toward MacPhaull House, vaguely aware that there was a crowd, that it parted to permit her passage through, and that she had once again made herself the subject of scandalized public comment. This time, though, she was
simply too battered to even care what anyone thought, what anyone said.

J
ACK WATCHED THE SUNRISE
through the amber whiskey in his glass. Tossing it down his throat, he surveyed the main room of Mrs. Theorosa's house. He'd been falling in love with Lindsay when they'd come here that afternoon. He'd watched her dust and thought how sweetly domestic and contented she seemed. He'd wanted to stay, to make love to her in the room with the bright purple walls and the brilliant pansies. But he'd been dutiful and responsible and they'd gone back to town like they were expected to. If only he'd known then that it would be the only chance they would ever have to be together in this house that Lindsay liked so much.

If only he'd known. There wasn't enough whiskey in New York to ease the ache deep inside him. If only things had turned out differently. If only Patterson had left her impoverished. But he hadn't and Lindsay was never going to come to Texas and let Jackson Lee Stennett court her. Jack smiled ruefully. No other man would have been allowed within a mile of her. He'd have kept her for himself.

The money didn't really make any difference, though, he admitted. Rich or poor, Lindsay was the kind of woman who wouldn't walk away from obligations and responsibilities. There was no changing her. She was bound to Henry and Agatha as surely as if someone had tied a single rope around all their ankles. There was no point in asking her to cut the ties, because her conscience wouldn't let her.

If only Lindsay didn't need so badly to be needed. If only he could present her with some need of his own that would draw her to him and bind them together. But the only need was his own to be with her, to love her, to make a family with her and grow old with her at his side. It wasn't enough to outweigh all that kept her here and he knew it.

And he couldn't stay here with her. He regretted with all his heart the words he'd flung at her on the sidewalk that afternoon; they'd hurt her. But that didn't change the fact that they'd been the truest ones he'd ever spoken. He hated
this place, hated the way it made a man come at the world and live his life. He didn't belong here, didn't want to become like Otis Vanderhagen, Richard Patterson, and Benjamin Tipton. And he sure as hell didn't want to become yet another person depending on Lindsay for his sustenance. He loved her too much to be a burden for her.

No, he couldn't stay here. He wanted his simple life. He wanted to share that with Lindsay. He wanted the impossible.

He wanted roses to bloom in Texas.

He wanted Lindsay's love to twine around his memories of Maria Arabella and all the other losses of his life. He wanted to be whole, happy, at peace with himself and with his past.

Through his tears, Jackson looked out the front window and watched the sun peek over the tops of the distant trees. It was time to head back into the city and do what had to be done. God give him the strength he'd need to face Lindsay and then walk away without proving—yet again— just how big a fool he was.

L
INDSAY HELD HER BREATH
, listening to the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. They paused at the door of the adjoining room and then came again after the door opened and closed. Jack had returned. She stared at her reflection in the vanity mirror, searching for some glimmer of the fortitude she needed to face him. All she saw were haunted eyes and and an aching heart. Jack was wrong about her, she realized. Yes, she liked the challenge of triumphing over risk, but there were some games whose stakes were so high that even she didn't dare play. The chances of losing were just too great, too certain. Telling him that she loved him was one of them.

She couldn't hide from him, though. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't. There were business matters they had to discuss. It had always been business with Jack. He'd told her time and time again that that was all there was between them. That and a purely physical desire. She'd been the one who'd violated the rules he'd laid down. She'd agreed to abide by them and then ignored it all and let her-
self fall in love. Her heartache wasn't Jack's fault. It was hers and only hers.

“Business, Linds,” she whispered, forcing a smile. “It's business, not personal. Remember that and you'll do just fine.”

Rising from the bench, she smoothed her skirts and then stepped to the door. Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she knocked, almost hoping he'd tell her to go away.

“It's open unless you've locked it.”

Lindsay smiled wryly. What did it say about her that she'd never even looked for the key? She turned the knob, pulled the door open, and then pushed back the tapestry. He stood beside the bed, a clean shirt in his hands, the one he'd removed lying on the floor at his feet. As always, her pulse raced at the sight of him and her heart yearned to be wrapped in his arms, to taste his lips and feel the wonder of his heartbeat against her breast. His gaze met hers for a fraction of a heartbeat before sliding away, and she wanted to cry for what she'd had and lost.

“You're back,” she said tightly, tears tickling her throat. “I've been worried about you. Are you all right?”

“Righter than rain,” he quipped, pulling on his clean shirt.

“I've never understood that expression,” she admitted, noticing the open valise on the end of the bed. Her stomach turned to lead. “It doesn't mean anything.”

“It means a lot of your life's a simple one,” he replied, his attention fixed on buttoning the shirt. “It's rain that keeps the grass green, the streams flowing, and water in the well. It's what keeps men and cattle alive. Nothing on earth is more important or more right than rain.”

Love was more important, but she knew better than to tell him that. It would be too close to a confession of her folly. Neither of them needed that complication. “We come from very different worlds, don't we, Jack?”

He paused for a long moment and then shrugged ever so slightly before saying, “That we do, and I'm heading back to where I belong.”

“When?” she asked, hoping the question sounded far more casual than it was.

“Well, as my luck goes, I can't get a berth on a ship out of here until tomorrow morning. I figure it's best if I clear my stuff out of here now and get a room for tonight at a hotel down by the docks.”

And so this was to be their farewell to each other. Lindsay caught her lower lip between her teeth. She wouldn't make it difficult for him. She wouldn't embarrass herself by telling him how much she loved him or pleading with him to stay with her. She wouldn't tell him that she'd gladly go to Texas with him if he thought there was any chance he might be the one she could marry. “Before you go,” she said, forcing herself to speak before she couldn't, “I think we should discuss what you intend to do with the balance of the MacPhaull holdings.”

“It doesn't matter,” he said, stuffing his shirttail into the waistband of his trousers. “I can divide it a hundred ways and in the end you're going to hold the reins for everyone. That's your purpose in life; to take care of undeserving idiots. Far be it for me to interfere.”

The words cut deeply and freed a surge of anger. Before she could think better of it, she retorted, “I never realized before yesterday that you had such a low opinion of me.”

He started, her ire clearly surprising him. His breathing came hard and fast and for a second she thought that he would finally look her in the eyes. She didn't care if she saw anger in them, or even disdain. All she wanted was to look into their dark, soulful depths one more time before he left her.

But he didn't look up. Instead, he sighed, picked his suit coat up from the bed, and pulled it on, saying, “I'll see Otis Vanderhagen before the auction begins and have him draw up whatever paper there needs to be to transfer the remaining properties back into your hands. He'll see that you get it.”

It was done between them. Not even business remained to connect them. Grief doused the spark of anger and left her shaking. “Good luck at the auction,” Lindsay offered, turning to retreat into the sanctuary of her room. “I hope you get all the money you need.”