The Texan's Dream (17 page)

NINETEEN

KARA THOUGHT ABOUT WHAT JONATHAN SAID FOR most of the night. How could someone claim he was afraid of nothing? Was he lying to her? Or to himself?

Of late, she felt like she was afraid of everything—most of all the way she felt about Jonathan. She fell asleep thinking of the way his arms felt surrounding her.

Breakfast consisted of burned biscuits, watery gravy and half-cooked eggs, but no one commented. Angela hovered in the great room while making a production of caring for Snort and Cooper. She seemed as cranky as ever, but Kara noticed she patted Cooper’s hand every time she passed him. The old lawman was battle-scarred and cynical, the old maid withered and misanthropic, yet somehow they connected.

Jonathan stormed through the dining area in his usual hurry. He downed a cup of coffee as he gave orders to everyone.

Kara watched him from the doorway. As always, he was dressed in leather from his chocolate-colored vest to the tawny-colored chaps laced to his legs. His collar was open with a navy blue bandanna tied about his throat. Before, in the pictures of cowboys she’d seen, she’d thought the bandannas were worn for flair. Now, thanks to a discussion with Snort, she knew they had much more practical purposes. They were masks against a dust storm, bandages for small cuts, pot holders around a camp fire and wash clothes when needed.

The clothes she’d thought looked strange only a few months ago now seemed suitable. If she saw Jonathan in his button-on collar and black suit she’d think it wasn’t right for the man. She’d grown used to noticing the mold of his powerful legs wrapped in leather and the way his gunbelt made his waist and hips leaner and his shoulders wider.

Jonathan’s eyes met hers. He’d caught her staring at him.

Not just staring, but analyzing, admiring.

A blush climbed up Kara’s cheeks. He only smiled, an almost lazy smile, before he downed a gulp of coffee and got back to work.

She tried to act as if nothing had happened between them as she filled her plate and took a seat as far from him as possible.

“I’m going out with the ranch hands today,” Jonathan informed her a few minutes later. “I want what’s left of the guard staying around headquarters.”

An uneasiness settled over Kara. If Jonathan were leaving the guard here, he must expect trouble to strike at the headquarters next.

“The ground’s drying,” he continued. “The boys and I will be able to make some time riding today. By nightfall, we’ll know for sure that the cattle have been stolen and not simply disappeared into one of the box canyons.”

H. B. grumbled. “Don’t you think I’d better ride with you?” None of the guard took to nesting, but H. B. was the worst of the lot. For the lanky old fighter, staying home rated right up there with a prison sentence.

“With Willis gone, Snort and Cooper wounded, and Newton not back from Fort Worth yet, I need you here.” Jonathan slammed his coffee cup down and stormed across the room, not waiting for H. B. to answer.

“Miss O’Riley,” he snapped as he passed her chair. “I need to see you for a minute.”

Kara followed him to the study wondering what could be the matter. She didn’t have long to wait.

As soon as the door closed, he turned to her and said, “It’s not me they’re trying to kill. It’s the guard!”

He was right. The moment he said the words, she saw what had been the obvious answer all along.

“But why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe just to get them out of the way so they can rustle cattle. Maybe someone hates lawmen.”

Jonathan paced as he talked. “The harness left on the back porch wasn’t meant for Gideon, but for one of the Old Guard when they came out after breakfast. Willis said the morning we left that his horse had been acting funny, like someone fed him locoweed. He’d wrestled the animal all day before he fell. Russell could have been pushed off the bluff behind his cabin. A man doesn’t just walk out from a house he’s lived in for ten years and forget where the cliff starts.”

Kara hugged herself. “You’re frightening me, Jonathan,” she whispered. “These are not easy men to kill.”

“That’s why two of them are still alive. A shoulder wound and a blow to the head should have killed them both. Only, whoever did it may not know that either man is still alive. If he thought them dead, that might explain why he rode off without taking a third shot at me.”

Jonathan pulled her against him as if the air had grown suddenly cold in the study. “I’ll leave two ranch hands on guard. Newton should be back today. When he gets here, tell him what I suspect. Until then, be careful. I’ve got to take care of the cattle or there’ll be nothing to sell come spring. If I hear even one shot, I’ll be riding this way at breakneck speed.”

“How many guards live in cabins near the borders?”

“Eight, I think,” he whispered against her hair. “I’ll call them all in. If my theory is right, we may not have much time before the shooter strikes again.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’m glad you’re here, Kara. There’s something calming about having you around. This may be far from over.”

“Be careful.” She raised her head and lightly brushed his lips with her mouth. A friendly kiss, she told herself, nothing more.

“I’ll be back before dark.” Jonathan pulled away and left the study without another word.

He was a mile away from headquarters before he could think of anything besides the way her lips felt when they brushed his. There had been no passion in it, only caring, and that affected him far more. He could handle passion. Hell, he could buy passion by the hour if he wanted it. But caring. That was never for sale.

Jonathan tried to keep his mind on his job. He was riding with cowhands now. They were mostly young men used to staying in the saddle all day, and they rode as if born to it. But they were not rangers. They lacked the edge even old rangers had for staying alive.

Pushing himself hard, Jonathan won their respect as they rounded up the herd on the north pasture. Thanks to the storm, strays were everywhere. By midafternoon, Jonathan felt like he’d pulled a hundred head out of the mud and twisted branches. The work was good for him, granting him a reprieve from other worries.

By the time the sun touched the horizon, Jonathan’s body ached all the way to his bones. He’d heard no shots fired from headquarters, so all must be safe. Even in the midst of trouble, the work of ranching had to go on. And, with the work came long days.

After taking care of his horse, he walked slowly up the front steps feeling like he was wearing more than a few pounds of dirt. But it had felt good to push himself.

Kara met him at the door. She didn’t say a word, but watched him closely.

He put his boot on the bench and unstrapped his spurs, then his gunbelt. “I’ve had a hard day of rounding up cattle, but all was quiet. I think we notified most of the guard to pack up their gear and move into the bunkhouse for a few days.” He liked the way she waited for him to tell her instead of bombarding him with questions. “No sign of the missing cattle. Our best estimate is that we somehow lost a hundred during the storm.”

As he slipped his coat off aching shoulders, he stopped suddenly, realizing she was helping him. For a moment he thought of pulling away and telling her he didn’t need any assistance. But it felt good to let her help. Not because he needed it, but because she cared.

“Snort and Cooper are both better. Angela insists they get well.” Kara’s voice was low. “All was quiet here today.”

“Good.” He faced her. “Any food?”

Kara smiled at him. “I’ll make you something while you clean up.”

Jonathan only wanted to eat and tumble into bed, but he didn’t argue. Twenty minutes later, he felt much better after a cold bath on the back porch and a change..of clothes. He stepped into the kitchen just as she set a plate on the counter beside a platter of meat, a bowl of gravy and a basket of biscuits that smelled good enough to have been baked in heaven.

“Thanks. You didn’t have to do this, you know.” He pulled up a stool and took a bite of one of the biscuits while she poured coffee for them both.

“I know. I enjoy doing it for you. We’re friends, after all.”

He nodded and relaxed. They talked of the day with the ease of old friends. He found he not only enjoyed the conversation, but he also enjoyed watching her. He liked the way she moved. The way she talked with her hands. The way her eyes said more than her words.

When he finished, she moved to his side of the counter and picked up his empty plate. Jonathan twisted on the stool to face her and took the plate from her. “Wait,” he said. “I need to give you something back that you gave me this morning.”

Kara didn’t move as he leaned close and lightly brushed his lips against hers.

“I know you’re promised to another.” He began what he’d practiced all day. “But you’re not married yet, so there could be no harm in our getting …” he picked his words carefully, “to know one another. Despite what you said the other night, I figure you’re as interested as I am. We could …”

She pulled away. “We could what?” Fire suddenly danced in her green eyes as quickly as if lightning had struck there an instant before.

Jonathan fought to keep his frustration from showing. She wasn’t reacting the way he’d thought she would. “I know you like being near, touching me. You enjoyed the kiss we shared by the windows as much as I did. We can’t keep going hot and cold.”

He wanted to say
you can’t,
but he was trying to be considerate. “I think I know what we both aren’t saying to one another. You’re telling me you’re engaged. I’ve made it plain that I want no ties. But we both know there’s something between us. Maybe we could reach some kind of agreement.”

He thought he’d come up with a logical plan, but she was getting angry before she heard the details.

“Agreement?”
Her voice was low. Too low.

Jonathan didn’t read the signal. “You know, something we’d both enjoy. I’ve never been around a woman I’ve wanted to hold so often. We could talk it out, set the boundaries. There doesn’t have to be any ties or strings.”

“Boundaries?” She said the word slowly.

He took her two words as a sign of negotiation. “I wouldn’t expect you to share my bed. At least not until you’re comfortable with doing so. I’m willing to go slowly.”

She should have considered his thoughtfulness, but all she did was frown. “Boundaries,” she whispered as though she’d heard the word once too often in her life.

“At any speed you like.” He smiled, proud of himself for being the first to compromise. There was no reason for them to argue. They both wanted the same thing. He’d seen it in her eyes that morning. Felt it every time they touched. “It’s foolish for both of us to fight to stay apart, to never touch. There’s a kind of touching that could bring both of us a great deal of pleasure.”

“And
where
do we start? A kiss each morning?” She crossed her arms, making him aware of her breasts.

“That would be fine.” He thought about how much he’d enjoyed the way she’d touched her lips to his that morning.

“And at lunch?”

“If I’m home and we have a few minutes alone.” He grinned. This was easier than he thought.

“And at night?”

“Definitely at night.” He pushed away from the table. She was being practical about this. It didn’t take any experience with women, he decided. It just took honesty, laying the facts on the table. He should have thought of this discussion before.

The plate hit him on the forehead first. Then the basket of biscuits slapped against his cheek, then the platter of meat and last the gravy. Jonathan was so totally taken off guard by the assault of food he didn’t try to defend himself until the gravy. He managed to catch the bowl, sending gravy splattered all over him.

He watched the door slam behind Kara, more confused by her response than angry.

Before he could move, H. B. rattled through the back door with Newton just behind him.

The old man frowned, but the foreman burst out laughing.

“Well, I guess supper is over, Mr. Catlin,” Newton said with no respect in his voice. “All over, if you get my drift.”

“Shut up,” Jonathan growled. He refused to wipe the gravy from his face.

“You and the ‘wee little bookkeeper’ must have had one hell of a fight.” Newton hooted he was laughing so hard. “I would have paid to see it.”

H. B.’s eyes narrowed on Jonathan. “You had a fight with Miss Kara? You didn’t hurt her, did you? I won’t tolerate that kind of behavior, even if your name is Catlin.”

“I’m the one with the plate dent in my scalp and you’re threatening me!” If the man hadn’t been over twice his age, Jonathan would have swung at him.

Newton fell to his knees, still laughing.

Jonathan ignored him and faced H. B. “All we were doing was talking. She must have misunderstood something I said.”
Probably everything I said,
he thought. “All at once plates started flying. She went crazy for no reason. The woman must be insane.”

H. B. looked like he was already knotting the noose while he listened.

“We were just talking,” Jonathan ended, almost wishing H. B. would slug him. He had no idea why, but he was sure he deserved it. “Go ahead. Kill me.”

When he looked into the old man’s eyes, Jonathan wasn’t sure H. B. didn’t plan to do just that.

Newton crawled across the floor. Every time he encountered a biscuit, he had another fit.

“You should have asked her how she felt,” H. B. lectured. “I told you women like that kind of thing. Then you ask her to step out with you somewhere. And for a long while you’re real careful not to talk about nothing that might be upsetting.”

Newton interrupted the lecture as he tried to stand with the aid of a stool. “No, sir, Jonathan. We don’t want to kill you. It’ll be too much fun letting the ‘wee little bookkeeper’ do it.”

H. B. didn’t crack a smile. “Maybe I should shoot him in one or two limbs to make it a fair fight.”

Newton finally managed to stand, still holding his side. “Hell, H. B., it looks like she’s the one winning.”

Jonathan felt along his hairline with gravy-splattered fingers. A knot the size of an egg was already forming. If he kept running into Kara, he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone else killing him. Newton was right, she’d do the job.