Читать книгу Man on a Mission - Carla Cassidy - Страница 10

It was just before ten when April walked toward the stables in search of Brian. She needed to go into the small town of Inferno and pick up some groceries, since it appeared they were going to stay.

She’d slept better than she had since her father’s death. No dreams had haunted her, no worries had kept sleep at bay. She’d awakened at dawn, feeling for the first time in a long time that she was ready to take on her future.

Already the sun was intense, heating her shoulders and the back of her neck where she’d pulled her hair into a ponytail and exposed pale, untanned skin. She tried to imagine what the heat would be like in July or August, but found it impossible to envision.

Brian wasn’t in the stables, so April decided to try the barn. The structure rose before her but there was no sign of Brian anywhere around the outside. She opened the large, double door and stepped into the interior, where she was instantly greeted by the scent of dust, grain, hay and leather.

Although she didn’t immediately see Brian, she heard the murmur of voices in the distance. She followed the voices to a small tack room where Brian and Mark were working side by side. They had their backs to her, and for a moment she merely watched, not alerting them to her presence.

Brian was oiling a saddle, and Mark was watching him. “Make sure you’re getting it into all the cracks,” Mark said.

“Like this?” Brian asked.

Mark watched a moment. “Perfect,” he replied, then patted Brian’s back. “You’re doing a great job.” Brian appeared to grow taller beneath Mark’s praise.

April’s heart expanded with love for her son and gratitude for the man who was taking time with him. Brian had such a hunger inside him, a hunger for male companionship, a hunger that radiated from his eyes and made April feel helplessly inadequate.

“Hi,” she said.

They both spun around at the sound of April’s voice.

“Hi, Mom.” Brian’s smile was huge, and April tried to remember when she’d seen him look so genuinely happy. It had been a long time…too long. Especially since his grandfather’s death, Brian had been a powder keg of emotions, sometimes exploding in a burst of anger or simply simmering in sullen silence. It was good to see his eyes sparkling with pleasure for a change.

“Hi, April.” Mark swept his hat off his head. “We’re just oiling down some tack.” His smile warmed her as effectively as the sun outside. Why was she so drawn to this man, she wondered.

She walked over and placed a hand on Brian’s shoulder. “I was wondering if I could borrow this cowboy for an hour or so. I’ve got to get into town and get some supplies.”

“Okay,” Mark agreed easily. He set his hat on a workbench and picked up a towel and wiped his hands. “Mind if I join you?”

April looked at him in surprise, unsure how to reply. “I…well, sure…if it’s all right.”

“All right?” He gazed at her blankly.

“All right with your brother.” April felt the warmth of a blush steal over her cheeks. It seemed odd telling a grown man he’d better check with his brother before going into town. But she knew Mark was no ordinary grown man.

“It’s all right,” he assured her. He handed Brian the towel.

“Then, let’s go,” Brian said enthusiastically.

Although April was not particularly comforted by Mark’s reassurance that it would be fine if he went along, she didn’t know how to gracefully ask him to check with his older brother.

She didn’t know many cowboys, but she suspected they were a breed of men with a tall share of pride. The last thing she wanted to do was wound Mark’s pride. “Okay, let’s go.”

As they walked from the barn to the car, April shot him a surreptitious glance. He looked like a poster image for the Old West with his hat riding low on his forehead and shadowing his features and his worn jeans hugging the length of his long legs.

April tore her gaze from the handsome cowboy and instead focused on her son, who was chattering about all the things he’d learned that morning. “Did you know a horse will eat oats and grain until it gets sick? Mark says they don’t have sense enough to stop once they start.”

April smiled. “I thought only eleven-year-old boys did that.”

“Ah, Mom,” Brian said with a giggle. He got into the back seat, leaving the front passenger seat for Mark.

Moments later April was driving toward the small town of Inferno, trying to ignore the pleasant scent that wafted from the man next to her. He smelled like the sun, mingled with minty soap and the whisper of an earthy cologne.

They rode in silence for a few minutes, April searching for some topic of pleasant conversation.

“Mom, why don’t you turn on the radio?” Brian asked, as if the silence bothered him.

“Won’t do you much good,” Mark replied. “Inferno only picks up one signal, and it’s a local channel owned by old man Butterfield.”

“What kind of music do they play?” Brian asked.

“Not much. About the only time the station has music is when Butterfield lets his wife or his daughter sing.” A charming, slightly mischievous smile lit Mark’s features. “They’re nice people, but when they sing, one sounds like a cow giving birth and the other sounds like a baby calf bawling for its mama.”

April laughed, and Brian giggled. “I think maybe we’ll skip the radio,” April said.

“Besides, if the radio is playing, it’s harder to talk,” Mark observed.

“What do you want to talk about?” Brian asked. He leaned forward, half hanging over the front seat.

“Why don’t we talk about car safety?” April suggested. “Sit back and buckle up.”

“Ah, Mom, I’m not a baby,” Brian protested.

“A cowboy never rides in a car without buckling in,” Mark replied sternly.

To April’s astonishment Brian sat back and buckled up. April flashed Mark a grateful smile. “Tell me more about cowboys,” Brian said eagerly.

Mark turned slightly in his seat, so he was facing April and able to gaze at Brian in the back. He flashed an easy grin. “What do you want to know about them?”

“I want to know everything about them, ’cause I want to be one,” Brian exclaimed fervently.

“Cowboys are men who live by a code of honor.”

“A code of honor?” Brian’s voice held a touch of awe. “What’s that mean?”

“It means you mind your mama, you take care of your horse and you never lose your hat.”

“I don’t even have a hat,” Brian said mournfully.

“We’ll get you one after payday, Brian,” April promised, grateful he’d mentioned the lack of a hat and not the omission of a horse in his life. She could probably swing a cowboy hat out of her first paycheck, but a horse would be impossible.

Within minutes they’d arrived in the small town of Inferno. Built on a square, the little town didn’t appear to even try to compete with the impressive courthouse at its center. With its wide concrete walkway and four stories of steel and glass, the courthouse looked as incongruous as a magnolia blooming in the middle of the sand.

The rest of the buildings that comprised the town of Inferno were one-story, earth-tone adobe and stucco that gave the impression of longevity and a peaceful coexistence with the desert that surrounded them.

“You can park there.” Mark pointed to an empty space in front of a grocery store.

April pulled into the parking space and shut off the engine. “What a charming little town,” she said as the three of them got out of the car.

“Come on. Before you buy groceries, I’ll show you all my favorite stores,” Mark said as he clapped his hat back on top of his head.

As the three of them started down the sidewalk, April looked around with interest. Would this little town eventually feel like home? Could she and Brian find happiness here?

“There’s the diner,” Mark said, pointing a finger at the storefront with two potted cacti like sentries guarding the door. “They have good apple pie, but don’t eat the meat loaf surprise. It’s awful.”

April laughed. “Meat loaf isn’t particularly a favorite of mine, anyway.”

She was overly conscious of his nearness, of the scent of him wrapping around her as he walked close enough that she could feel the heat from his body.

“Wow, look!” Brian pointed to a store up ahead, where the window display consisted of a half-dozen ornate saddles and matching bridles.

“That’s the tack shop and next to it is the post office,” Mark said.

As he pointed out various places of interest, it was easy for April to forget that he was mentally impaired. He exuded an enthusiasm that was contagious and a candor that was refreshing.

He’d be easy to spend time with, she thought. A good companion who held no threat either emotionally or financially. A friend. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a friend, and the concept of Mark filling that space in her life warmed her. Perhaps warmed her a tad too much, she thought ruefully.

They stopped when they had gone completely around the square and were back to where April’s car was parked.

“I’ve got stuff to do at some other stores,” Mark said. “I’ll just meet you back here in a few minutes.”

April watched helplessly as he ambled down the sidewalk away from her and Brian. He walked with a masculine grace and for a moment April was completely engrossed in watching the slight sway of his slender hips and the awesome width of his shoulders.

She hoped she hadn’t made a mistake in letting him go off on his own. She’d hate to have to go back to the ranch and tell Matthew Delaney that she’d lost his brother.

“Mom?” Brian stared at her impatiently. “Are we going food shopping or what?”

“Yes, we’re going food shopping,” she said. As she and Brian entered the small grocery store, she shoved her concerns about Mark aside. She had more important concerns—like how to buy the maximum amount of food with a minimum amount of cash.

Mark had discovered that an eleven-year-old boy could be a veritable font of information. Through Brian’s early-morning chatter, Mark had learned that April was almost thirty years old, her favorite color was turquoise and sometimes at night she cried when she thought Brian couldn’t hear her.

When Rachel had left Mark three years ago and married Samuel Rogers from the ranch nearest the Delaney place, Mark had sworn that he’d never get involved with any woman again.

Rachel had taken his heart, then twisted and mashed it when she’d told him she’d never believed any of the Delaney men would make good husbands or fathers. A month before their wedding date, she’d broken off the relationship and had left Mark bloody and defeated in the arena of romance.

Deep down he knew Rachel had been right in her assessment of him. None of the Delaney men was a good husband or father prospect. Even Johnna hadn’t managed to find a relationship that worked for her.

When she’d been eighteen, she’d dated the bad boy of town, Jerrod McCain, but Jerrod had disappeared from her life before her miscarriage, and as far as Mark knew, Johnna had never allowed anyone close to her again.

Matthew had always been too obsessed with the ranch to sustain any relationships, and Luke played at love, enjoying his image as a wild, untamed rake.

The Delaneys were definitely stunted in their ability to maintain any kind of relationship with the opposite sex. Unsurprising, considering they didn’t even have good relationships with each other.

No, Mark didn’t want a romance with April. He recognized his own inability, the inadequacies in himself that made him a bad candidate for romance. But that didn’t mean his fingers didn’t itch to touch the gold of April’s hair, and he had to confess the scent of her stirred him like no woman had in a very long time.

He walked into the Western clothing store, the small cowbell over the door announcing to the owner that somebody had entered the premises.

“Mark,” John Shaffer, the owner of Western Wear, greeted him with a friendly smile and an outstretched hand. His grizzled brow wrinkled in concern as he pumped Mark’s hand. “How you feeling? I haven’t seen you since your accident.”

“I’m okay.”

John’s hand was warm around Mark’s. “I was sorry to hear about your father. He was a good man, Mark.”

Mark nodded, surprised that the kind words about his father brought a lump to his throat. “Matthew says I need some new jeans.” Mark forced himself to smile the empty expression that he’d perfected over the past several weeks.

John released his hand. “Oh, sure. We can get you set up with a new pair of jeans.”

Mark didn’t miss the look of pity that flashed momentarily across John’s features. Pity. That was the worst part of his subterfuge. The pity he saw on good people’s faces, and the smirking derision he saw on not-so-good people’s faces.

At least he had yet to see pity on April’s face. He’d seen curiosity, bewilderment and interest, but thankfully not pity.

It took only minutes for Mark to get the jeans and charge them to the Delaney account. As he was leaving the store, his attention was captured by the hat display. The wall section held hats of various sizes and styles, including one just like Mark’s, only sized to fit a boy’s head.

It’s not my job to buy that boy a hat, Mark told himself as he moved closer to the display. That kid is nothing to me but a part-time helper in the stables.

He already regretted the impulse that had prompted him to be friendly to April and Brian. He had no time for any kind of relationships, and Rachel had made it quite clear he wasn’t very good at them. He needed to back away from April and her son. He was pretending to be something he was not, and there was no guarantee they were going to manage to keep the ranch, no guarantee that April would be around for long.

Despite his internal protests to the contrary, he walked out of the store with both the jeans and the hat. In the distance he saw April and Brian exiting the grocery store, a cart laden with bags in front of them.

Perfect timing, he thought as he hurried toward them. When he reached them, April had opened the trunk and was beginning to unload the bags.

“Here, I’ll do that.” He threw his packages into one corner of the trunk, then began to unload the shopping cart.

“You should see all the good stuff Mom bought,” Brian said, dancing around Mark like a young colt with too much energy. “She bought frozen pizzas and cookies and chips.”

“Hmm, sounds good,” Mark said.

“And she bought chopped meat and said I could make hamburgers one night. Maybe you could eat dinner with us and taste my specialty burgers.” The boy’s need was in his eyes, the need to connect, and it was fierce in its hunger.

“Maybe,” Mark replied without commitment, realizing he definitely needed to put some distance between him and them. Brian’s hunger was too great, and Mark definitely wasn’t the man to fulfill the young boy’s needs. Whatever Brian was looking for in his life, whatever April might be seeking, Mark wasn’t the answer and never would be.

“Mark Delaney!”

The familiar feminine voice worked like cat claws on a blackboard, shooting irritation straight up his spine. He straightened from the trunk and eyed the attractive red-haired woman bearing down on them.

Molly Weiser. Mark stifled a groan. Of all the people in this world, there were two Mark hated coming face-to-face with—the first was Molly, followed closely by the devil himself.

“Mark, darling.”

Before he could successfully weave and dodge, he found himself embraced in a cloud of honeysuckle perfume, large silicon breasts pressed firmly against his chest.

“Molly…” He pulled her away from him and pointed to April. “This is my friend April and her son, Brian.”

“Hi, I’m April Cartwright. I’m working for the Delaneys,” April said.

“Indeed.” Molly’s eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. She looked to Mark and back to April. “And from all appearances, you’re a fast worker.”

April’s friendly smile faltered, and Mark wanted to throttle Molly, who turned back to Mark and grabbed his hand. “Darling, I’ve been wanting to see you since all the trouble, but that dreadful older brother of yours is quite off-putting. I’ve heard some stories that have had me worried sick about you.”

“I’m fine.” Mark pulled his hand from hers and grinned like a loony fool. “How are you?”

Molly’s brow wrinkled with concern, and he could see the wheels turning in her head. He knew what stories she’d probably heard—that he was addle brained—and he also knew she was weighing her options.

Molly was determined to marry a Delaney. She’d initially set her sights on Matthew, but when he refused to respond to her advances, she’d honed in on Mark. She’d been pursuing him for months. Now Mark was certain she was trying to decide if half a Delaney might not be just as good as a whole Delaney.

“We have to go,” he said to nobody in particular, just feeling the need to escape Molly’s cloying presence.

“I’ll call you, Mark,” Molly said. To Mark’s ears it sounded more threat than promise. “You owe me a dinner date.”

Mark loaded the last bag into the trunk and slammed the lid. As Molly wiggled her fingers goodbye, Mark, April and Brian got into the car.

For a long moment nobody spoke. April pulled out of the parking space and headed the car back toward the ranch.

Brian broke the silence. “She had the biggest ones I’ve ever seen.”

“Brian!” April exclaimed in protest, although Mark thought he saw a glimmer of laughter in her big green eyes.

“She bought them,” Mark replied. “She went to Tucson on vacation and came back three weeks later with big ones.”

“Wow,” Brian exclaimed as if the notion of women buying breasts was difficult to wrap his mind around. To tell the truth, it had always been difficult for Mark to understand.

“She should have bought a T-shirt or an ashtray instead,” Mark observed.

A giggle escaped April, the sound wonderfully feminine and appealing. “When I was little and we went on vacation, I collected bells.”

“I don’t have any collections ’cause I’ve never been anywhere,” Brian put in mournfully.

“You’re young. You’ve got plenty of time for collections,” Mark replied. He noticed April looking at him curiously and realized he’d been talking far too much.

As they approached the ranch, Mark drew into himself, his thoughts turning to Marietta and what information she might have had that had gotten her killed. Something was amiss at the Delaney Dude Ranch, but Mark had yet to discover exactly what it was. Every day that passed without answers only managed to feed his frustration.

The investigation into Marietta’s death and Mark’s injuries had been desultory at best by Sheriff Broder, who’d decided it was a crime of jealous rage perpetrated by a ranch hand who had subsequently disappeared.

Mark hadn’t told the sheriff what Marietta had shared with him. Her warning that it was possible the sheriff might be involved kept him mute where the specifics were concerned.

In two weeks the ranch would be jumping with guests, making his search for Marietta’s killer more complicated. And still he had nothing to go on concerning what activity Marietta had been talking about. He was beginning to wonder if his act was all for nothing.

“So, Mark, what are we going to do when we get back to the ranch?” Brian’s voice broke through Mark’s thoughts, and again Mark felt the boy’s hunger. “Maybe you could teach me to lasso?”

“Can’t,” Mark replied. “I have stuff to do this afternoon. You’re on your own for the rest of the day.”

He tried not to allow the boy’s disappointment to touch him. He had his own problems to deal with. He absolutely, positively refused to get caught up in April and Brian Cartwright.

“Brian, you can’t be bothering Mark all the time,” April told her son gently. “I’m sure he has more important things to do than teach you to throw a rope.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Mark said, hating the fact that despite his intentions, something in the boy’s eyes got to him.

“Great,” Brian agreed eagerly.

When they arrived at the cottage, April opened the trunk and handed Mark his packages. “Thanks, Mark, for the town tour and all your help.”

He nodded and pulled the hat from his bag. “Brian.” He tossed the boy the black hat.

Brian caught it with both hands, his eyes widening as he realized what he held. “Wow!” he exclaimed. “A hat just like yours.” In three long strides, he reached Mark and wrapped his arms awkwardly around Mark’s waist.

“Thanks, Mark.” Brian stepped away from him, his cheeks pinkened as if his display of affection had embarrassed him.

Mark turned to walk away, trying to ignore the sun-burst of warmth in the pit of his stomach.

“Mark.”

He paused and turned back to April. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.” He was rewarded by a smile from her that warmed him down to his toes and twisted something deep in his gut.

He suddenly realized he had to be careful. For some reason this woman and her son had the potential of touching him where he’d sworn he would never be touched again.