Solitary Horseman (26 page)

“’Course I can stay in the damned saddle,” Callum groused, irritated at being treated like an invalid. He used what strength he had left to lift himself onto the horse. He didn’t remember riding the rest of the way to the house. Somehow, he arrived there. People fussed around him and he was grateful when a soft, feather mattress enveloped him.

Banner’s face swam into view and he frowned. Why was she still here? Should be home. Safe. At home.

Then he closed his eyes and fell into black oblivion.

When he opened them again, sunlight stabbed at his pupils and he winced, slamming his eyes closed again.

“Callum?”

A soft voice caressed his ear and the delicate touch of fingertips soothed over his brow. He pried open one eye, then the other to get a better look at Banner. He could gaze upon her all day, every day. Her mahogany hair spilled over her shoulders and her tiger eyes shone with concern and relief.

He tried to speak and a garbled sound emerged. He had to swallow, clear his throat, and try again. “Is it morning?”

“Yes. How do you feel?”

“Like I was shot.”

She smiled. “And so you were. You might have a headache and you’re going to feel weak for a few days because you lost a lot of blood. The bullet that plowed into you made quite a mess.”

“I lived, though.”

“Yes, it appears so.” She glanced over her shoulder and then back at him. “The sheriff is here. Can you speak with him?”

He nodded, and she stepped away, allowing Sheriff Jacoby and a tall man in a Texas Ranger get-up to approach the bed. The sheriff stroked his long, white mustache as he took measure of Callum.

He jerked his head in the direction of the other man. “This here is Bill Falcon. He’s one of the Rangers looking into the night riders and such.”

Falcon nodded at Callum. “I believe you sent a telegram asking the Texas Rangers for assistance.”

“I did.” Callum glanced at the sheriff’s surprised expression and started to shrug, but thought better of it when his shoulder screamed in pain. He winced and tried to be still. “Glad you came. It’s getting wild around here. Dangerous for everyone.”

“I need to hear about what happened to you and Johnson in your own words.” Sheriff Jacoby removed a pad of paper and a lead pencil from his shirt pocket.

Callum drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting his mind transport him back to the hunter’s shack. “I was at the Pitchfork Hills on the northeast part of Payne land. I hadn’t scouted out that far before and I was curious about any water sources that could be there. I found a trail that had been used by cattle and I followed it around to a shack surrounded by rocky outcroppings. A natural kind of corral. I figured that it might have been used to hide cattle that had been stolen from Payne land over the past year or so.”

“Miss Payne told me she was missing cattle,” Sheriff Jacoby said. “I looked into it, but I didn’t get anywhere.”

“I figured the thieves were Jeb Johnson and maybe Russell Baines, but I couldn’t figure out what they were doing with the cattle. Now I think they put them in that corral for a few days until people stopped looking for them, then they moved them out at night and sold them to some no-good, thieving cattle broker.”

“Who fired first?” Falcon asked.

“He did. It was an ambush and not the first one. A few weeks ago, someone tried to shoot my head off my shoulders. Missed by a hair. Today, though, Johnson winged me. I got a shot off and it went true.”

“He used to work for Miss Payne?” Falcon asked.

“Yes, and I fired him. He didn’t take kindly to it, especially when I called him a low-life thief.” Even though it hurt like a sonofabitch, Callum pushed himself up to a sitting position. That was better, but now his shoulder screamed with pain that wouldn’t ease up. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t riding with that vigilante group either.”

“I just had a talk with Miss Payne about her run-in with the livery stable owner.” The Ranger glanced up at the ceiling and snapped his fingers. “Bransetter, wasn’t it? The sheriff gave me a few names of men he thinks could be riding with that group. Bransetter is one of them. Your cousin Eller is on the list, too. He ever told you he sided with them?”

Callum slid his gaze over to the sheriff, who appeared to be a little sheepish and refused to look him square in the eyes. He didn’t like that the sheriff had put Eller on that list, but he couldn’t fault him for it either. “He’s like a lot of folks in these parts. Bitter and fuming for a fight.” Callum shifted, trying to find a position where his shoulder wasn’t as painful.

“You assaulted Bransetter in his place of business?” Falcon asked, but it wasn’t actually a question. More like a statement of fact.

“That’s right,” Callum said, feeling no remorse. “He had it coming.”

“That’s not how he’s telling it,” Sheriff Jacoby said. “He says you stormed into his business with no explanation and tried to beat him to death.”

“If I’d wanted him dead, he’d be in the ground by now,” Callum drawled, tiring of this game of half-truths and out-and-out lies. “He insulted Miss Payne – grossly insulted her – and I let him know that I wouldn’t tolerate it. Then or ever. He got the point.”

“I understand that men are playing fast and loose with the law in these parts,” Falcon said with a smile that was cool and direct. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and young. Probably in his mid-twenties. But there was a maturity about him. Callum figured he was a straight shooter and could move as quick as a snake. “The trick is not to add to the trouble by becoming like those you’re trying to bring to heel. The Rangers are here now, Mr. Latimer. You need to back off and let us handle the wrong-doers.”

Callum ran a hand through the tangles in his hair. His shoulder and part of his chest were swaddled in white strips of cloth, neatly and securely tied in place. Banner Payne’s handiwork, no doubt. “I’ll be glad to allow the law to take over. All I want is to work my cattle and be left in peace. As long as people keep a civil tongue in their heads and their thieving hands off my herd, I have no problem with anyone.”

Falcon nodded and then a slight smile tipped up the corners of his mouth as he shifted from one boot to the other. “You don’t remember, but I served briefly under you at the tail end of the war at Morrisville Station. It was an honor to ride with you, sir.”

The horrors, the courageous acts, and the final blows of surrender washed over him in a tidal wave that never ceased to crush his insides. He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting off the barrage of emotions, and swallowed the sour taste of defeat that coated his mouth and throat. Forcing himself to shake off the claustrophobic feelings, he forced words past his wooden lips, “Then you fought valiantly. Everyone there did.”

“You were a Lieutenant Colonel in the Cavalry, weren’t you, Latimer?” Sheriff Jacoby asked.

“He was,” Falcon answered for him. “One of the finest soldiers in the Confederacy. When I was told to join up with his regiment, it was a proud moment for me. We all sensed that the South was days away from a final surrender, so I was proud to end it fighting with the best of the best.”

Callum rubbed his aching forehead. “By that time, I believe the
best
that could be said about us was that we were stubbornly surviving. Every damn morning, I was shocked to shit that I was awake and breathing.”

Falcon and Jacoby shared a spate of nervous laughter, then shuffled their feet, and muttered their goodbyes and wishes for his speedy recovery. He waved them off, all desire to appear cordial and unbent by his injury sapped away by the memories of war and the bitterness of loss. He slid lower into the bed and turned onto his side, onto the shoulder that wasn’t burning like hellfire, and sank into the familiar gloom of depression. It surrounded him, gathered him close, and whispered ugly words in his ear.

“Callum?”

A coolness stroked over his bristled cheek and his name, spoken like a sweet requiem, stirred the darkness swirling in his head and heart and soul.

“Callum.”

His name, like a breeze blowing through fog, separating it, letting in the light. He opened his eyes and drank her in.
Banner.
So aptly named. Symbolic of courage and devotion, of pride and honor. Her touch on his face was purer than raindrops, warmer than sunshine.

“I want you to drink this down. Mary ground up some herbs. They’ll dull your pain.” She held a glass of milky liquid. “Please? Can you sit up for a minute?”

The darkness of despair was sucked back into its hole and his heart expanded, his lungs billowed with new breath. He propped himself up and drank the concoction that tasted faintly of grass, mint, and chalk. When he handed the empty glass back to her, she took it, and with her free hand, combed back his hair from his forehead. Her tender smile squeezed his heart.

“Sleep now,” she said, almost in a whisper. “Tomorrow I imagine we’ll all be wishing we could keep you from your work and we’ll all know we can’t.”

“Banner.” Just saying her name eased him.

“Yes?”

“Kiss me.” A request. Simple. Springing from his heart.

She smiled and leaned close. Her lips touched his. Lifted. Pressed again, opening slightly this time, lingering a few moments longer before she straightened away from him.

“There.” She pulled the sheet up higher onto his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He was asleep before she left the room.

“It’s damn dangerous around here,” Seth Latimer said, glaring at each man around the breakfast table. “Just because Johnson is dead don’t mean we can breathe easy. Not with the vigilante riders scaring the bejesus out of everyone.”

“Have they been back to Ki and Mary’s place?” Franklin asked, after he’d swallowed a mouthful of beefsteak.

“No, but they aren’t taking chances either. They’re holding night watches at their place. Same as we’re doing with the herd.” Seth nodded when Banner offered to fill his cup again. “You need to stay here another today, Callum. Give yourself more time to heal.”

“I’ll see to the herd for a few hours.” He held up a hand to stop the protests and complaints that were coming his way. “I’ll take it easy. There’s nothing to keep me out of the saddle.”

“Except loss of blood,” Banner said, giving him an arched look. “Your pa is right. Allow your body to recuperate.”

“I rested yesterday.”

“Stop being so hard-headed, Callum James Latimer. Be sensible.” She realized that she’d spoken to him like a nagging wife and the weight of the considering stares around the table brought hot color to her neck and cheeks. Turning swiftly, she left the dining room and escaped into the kitchen. She set the coffee pot back onto the stove and released a shaky breath.

Night before last when he’d staggered in, held up by Ben, his shirt soaked in blood, she’d run to him, not caring that tears filled her eyes and slipped down her face or that she barked orders to the others in a voice trembling with fear and concern and – yes, love.

She loved him. She knew it. The thought of losing him had shaken her to her very soul. Why, the highpoints in her daily life were all about him. Seeing him. Touching him. Talking with him. Listening to the sexy rumble of his voice. It had been so for a long while now. Her life had been divided into the hours without Callum and the lovely hours with him. Sometimes she didn’t even get hours – just minutes as he arrived at the house only shortly before she was heading home. She despaired on those days; her only respite being dreams of him at night.

“You going to stay in here and pout?”

She gulped down a gasp of alarm and spun around to find Callum behind her. A lopsided grin graced his wide mouth and his eyes danced with deviltry. She looked down at where her hand had flown up to cover her jumping heart and then back up at him.

“I’m not pouting, but I am vexed at you.”

“Vexed?” His grin grew and he stepped closer, pausing for a moment to glance over his shoulder, checking to be sure no one was still in the dining room. The men had all left and Seth was probably in the front parlor or his bedroom. Callum braced his hands against the counter behind her, his arms caging her. “Vexed?” he repeated, keeping his voice pitched low. “Sure you don’t mean smitten?”

She rested a tentative hand on the shoulder she’d bandaged, feeling the edge of it beneath his shirt. “Maybe a little smitten.” She raised her gaze to his. “Stay here today, Callum. With me.”

He regarded her with an intensity that made her heart leap. “And what would
we
do if I did stay? Hmmm?”

She bit her lower lip to keep from smiling mischievously at him. “You could help me clean up the breakfast dishes and then build a fire outside so I can heat water for a load of wash.” She tried to smother her giggle at his look of disappointment. “Does that tempt you?”

“Not in the least.” He leaned in closer until his lips were poised near hers. “But you do.”

Banner’s bones softened as his mouth claimed hers. She opened to him. The slide of his tongue on hers was still new and oh so carnal. He lifted his lips, moved his head a fraction, and then settled his mouth on hers again, tasting and tantalizing. His hands skimmed up her arms and he caressed her neck and throat. He nipped at her lower lip as if he wanted to gobble her up and blasted every thought from her mind while he awakened every pulse point in her body. She forgot where she was, what had just been said, and that she was raised a proper lady. Her heart melted and pooled between her legs. She had a moment of insanity, thinking she’d wrap her legs around him and arch against him because she simply couldn’t get close enough.

He whispered in her ear, “If I stay, I’m taking you to bed. And I don’t give a damn who knows it. It’s up to you, Banner. Should I stay or should I go?”

Sinful delight skittered up her spine. She opened her eyes and remembered she was in the kitchen. The Latimer kitchen. She couldn’t do this . . . couldn’t let him bed her with his father in the next room! She’d gained Seth Latimer’s respect and such an action would blow that to smithereens and confirm what he’d originally thought of her – that she was trash. Maybe even Callum would think less of her, too, once his ardor had cooled.

She shook her head while the rest of her body burned for him. “Go, but do be careful. You don’t have your full strength. You’ll tire quickly.”

He smiled crookedly at her as he allowed his fingertips to drift from her neck down the front of her dress and directly over her diamond-hard nipples. His gaze flicked to hers, lasciviously. “Doesn’t feel like I’d tire quickly. Feels like I’d last for hours.”

She pursed her lips and shook her head at him, silently chiding him for his naughty insinuation. He gave an indolent shrug and stepped away.

“I have my marching orders then.” He touched two fingers to his forehead in a jaunty salute. “I’ll see you later, Miss Payne.”

“That you will, Mister Latimer.”

He chuckled, gave her a wink, and then strode from the kitchen. Banner hugged herself, holding tight to the remnants of hot desire that had seized her. She was proud of herself for resisting him because, God knew, it had taken every shred of her will power! Saying no to Callum Latimer was testing her endurance and she wasn’t at all certain she could endure much more before giving in to the power he wielded over her.

She had never wanted a man as she wanted Callum. Yes, she’d been attracted to a few men, but never to the point of utter surrender! This must be a part of being in love. Being in love, wanting to be loved in return,
making love.
It all went hand-in-hand, heart-in-heart. Did Callum feel it, too? Did he love her or just want her?

That, in essence, was how she was able to deny him. Until she was certain he was in love with her, could return her love, then they couldn’t make love together.

###

It would seem that he wasn’t quite up to snuff, Callum allowed as the whole left side of his body began to throb with each jarring step Butter took. It wasn’t long before the landscape around him undulated as even his eyeballs pulsed with pain. He reined Butter to a stop and waited for the discomfort to subside enough to allow him to continue rounding up stragglers.

He hated to admit that Banner was right, but he probably should head for home and bed rest. He’d felt good earlier, but fatigue and pain were working together to defeat him. Behind his eyelids, an image of Banner’s light brown eyes and luscious lips sent a new kind of weakness through him. Good Lord, he was roped and tied by the girl! The mere sound of her voice could make his body harden and his heart go soft.

Was he in love with her?

He’d certainly never felt this way about any other female. He wanted her naked and panting beneath him as much as he wanted his next breath. Yeah. He had it bad, but it felt so damned good.

Hearing a rider coming closer, he reluctantly opened his eyes. Ben reined his horse to a prance beside him.

“Have you seen Hollis since breakfast?”

Callum shifted in the saddle, trying to find a more comfortable seat. “Can’t say that I have. Is he with Shane and Franklin?”

“Nope.” Ben removed his hat and finger combed his long hair. “I just saw them over there by the cottonwoods and they haven’t seen him for a spell either. Did you hear about the hangings?”

For an instant, Callum’s heart froze with dread and the throbbing pain ceased with it. “What hangings?”

“A couple of Altus Decker’s man servants were found hanging from a tree outside of town this morning.”

“Goddamn it,” he muttered, as his heart bucked to life again. “This has to stop.”

“There is also talk that the Texas Rangers and the sheriff are tightening their own noose around the men who did it.”

“Well, I hope to hell that’s true.”

“The Rangers followed their tracks from the hanging to Dockers’ farm. Looks like they met in his barn, had a chin-wag, then headed out for their hanging party. Old Lawrence Docker was tight-lipped at first, but the Rangers got him to talking and he named names.”

“It’s not hard to make a pig squeal.”

Ben fit his hat back onto his head. “I’m going to ride over to the Payne place to see if Hollis is there. See if anything’s wrong or if he’s just in one of his moods.” He frowned as if another thought struck him. “Hey, where’s Eller?”

Eller.

Callum squinted one throbbing eye. Good question.
Where the hell is Eller?
“If he’s still lying in bed at home . . . or if he slipped over to town again . . .” He clamped his back teeth together in a snap of aggravation. “I’ll fire his lazy ass this time.”

“Settle down. He could be around here and he just hasn’t checked in with you yet.” Ben’s worried gaze flicked over him. “You don’t look too good. Go back home. We can finish the day without you.”

“I’m riding over to Eller’s before I head for home.”

“Okay, but keep a cool head, Callum. Miss Banner says you’re low on blood today.”

He didn’t reply because he wasn’t going to promise anything. If Eller was home, he wouldn’t keep a cool head. He was done with giving Eller a slack rein. Spinning Butter around, he headed in the direction of the house he’d let Eller and Lilah move into when he’d agreed to hire his cousin. He hadn’t wanted to take on Eller, but after his father’s injuries, Callum was short-handed and Eller had been available.

Even though he knew Eller wouldn’t be a reliable cowhand, he’d gone against his better judgment and hired him. He’d regretted it ever since. Had Eller been out late last night stringing up freed slaves? Was that why he wasn’t riding the range with the others this morning?

Stone-cold anger tied knots in his gut. He hunched his shoulders and tried to lessen the jostle of his body on top of Butter. He thought of the soldiers he’d known with bullet or saber wounds, who had insisted on joining the fight again after they’d been patched up. Hell, how had they managed it? He could barely tend to cattle with a shoulder wound! Of course, when a man faced battle, it was different. His mind switched to the bare essentials and he was able to block out physical shortcomings.

Is that what the night riders did when they chased down innocent people and swung them from nooses? Did they block out that they were cold-blooded murderers? Were they actually able to see themselves as do-gooders? Could they sleep soundly after dragging a man behind a horse until he was bloody and half-dead and then string him up like a side of beef, all the while not showing their faces to him?

Was this the kind of fodder of which Eller was made?

He knew the answer. Eller was the epitome of a coward. He’d known it as long as he’d known Eller Hawkins. Even as kids, Eller’s way of fighting was to wait until your back was turned, then he’d punch you hard in the side or back, and run like the wind. He’d done that once too often to Harrison and Harry had chased Eller down and beat the stuffing out of him. Eller had wailed all the way home, but had received no condolences from his folks. They knew he was a sniveling shirker and had told him to dry his snot-nosed tears and quit acting a fool.

But Eller had never fought fair, even after that whipping. He’d learned to puff out his chest, brag about his stamina and strength, and find ways to let others step up and do what needed to be done.

“Your luck’s running out, cousin,” Callum muttered, darkly. He had a feeling that today was judgement day for Eller Hawkins.

When he arrived at the homestead he didn’t see Eller’s horse in the corral, but that didn’t mean the steed wasn’t chomping oats in the barn or out in the pasture somewhere. Callum looped Butter’s reins loosely around a sapling near the front porch and mounted the three steps. He rapped on the door.

“It’s Callum,” he announced, although he knew anyone inside had probably already looked out the window to identify him. Unless that someone was asleep. Lilah should be up and about, though. So, he waited a full minute before he rapped on the door again. “Open up. I know someone’s in there.” He cocked his head, listening to the slightest rustling of clothing on the other side of the door. “Lilah? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Her voice barely penetrated the wood. “I’m not decent.”

He took a step back, staring at the door, weighing her words and what might be behind them. “Is Eller in there with you?”

“No.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

He started to turn away, get back on Butter, and ride to town to see if he could roust out Eller there, but something in Lilah’s voice nagged at him. Had there been a quiver in it? Why? Was she lying for the bastard? Was in there telling her to fib for him?

“Lilah, go put something on. I’ll wait.” He rested the heel of his hand on the butt of his gun, unsure of what to do next other than wait her out. He didn’t hear her moving about inside and he fully expected for the door to open and reveal none other than Eller Lying Lazy Ass Hawkins. After another minute, he heard a slight scraping and then the door inched backward until there was a crack big enough for him to see half of Lilah’s shadowed face. “What’s going on?”