Читать книгу Whirlwind Cowboy - Debra Cowan - Страница 11

Chapter Four

Bram wanted some distance from Deborah. He needed it. Just a few minutes.

He escaped from the cabin and strode to the barn to saddle their horses. The morning air was still, choked with the smell of dirt. His boots left deep impressions in the drifts stirred up by the wind.

He struggled to dismiss not just the horror he had seen in Deborah’s eyes minutes ago after the nightmare, but also the feel of her satiny skin beneath his hand, the sight of yet another bruise on that ivory flesh.

The sheer terror in her face had rattled him, enough that he had been ambushed by a gut-twisting urge to hold her. Kiss her.

But he hadn’t. And he wouldn’t.

After the incessant shriek of the wind, the lack of sound was stark, disorienting. Like looking into Deborah’s eyes and realizing she didn’t recognize him. That had sliced right through Bram.

Did she really not remember? Part of him still resisted the notion.

Once they were under way, he wouldn’t have to look at her. Or even talk to her if he didn’t choose. Itching to get on the trail, he opened the barn door, breathing more easily now that he was away from her.

He was relieved to see Scout looked none the worse for wear aside from the blanket of dust coating his yellow-tan body and black-tipped ears. After saddling the dun gelding and steering him outside, Bram made his way to the back of the barn.

Cosgrove’s black mare was covered in dirt. If it hadn’t been for the whites of her panicked eyes, she would’ve blended into the shadows.

The sight of him had her shifting jerkily as if she might bolt. Bram spoke softly to the skittish animal, easing closer. She tossed her head and stepped back, her rump hitting the barn wall. He laid a comforting hand on her neck and stroked until she settled, then he coaxed her into the wedge of light at the front of the barn.

She was limping. With a frown, he stooped to examine her legs and discovered her right front fetlock was swollen. Likely sprained. She had been fine when he’d left his own mount in here last night.

The mare must have become distressed during the dust storm and tried to rush the door or kick down the wall. At least the injury wasn’t more serious. Still, Deborah wouldn’t be riding this horse today. Nobody would.

Bram cursed under his breath. Scowling, he tugged off the bandanna he had dampened and used to wipe the most recent layer of grit from his face, then knelt and wrapped the horse’s lower joint. He saddled and bridled her, then led both mounts to the porch where Deborah stood with his and Cosgrove’s saddlebags.

In her bloodstained dress, she looked small, fragile. The cut at her temple stood out in stark relief against her fair skin.

Her uncertain gaze sought his. That infernal protectiveness rose inside him again. Jaw tight, Bram gestured at the black mare.

“Cosgrove’s mare is injured, so you can’t ride her.”

Alarm flitted across her delicate features. “Did I ride her when I shouldn’t have? I was so focused on getting away that I didn’t notice she might be hurt.”

“If she’d been hurt while carrying you, you would’ve known. I think she got spooked in the barn during the storm.”

Deborah stepped to the side as Bram bent to pick up Cosgrove’s saddlebags and drape them over Scout’s withers in front of the saddle horn. He settled his own bags on Cosgrove’s mare behind her saddle.

Deborah frowned. “If she’s hurt, you shouldn’t be riding her either, should you?”

“I won’t be. I’ll be riding Scout.”

“Then how—”

“You’ll have to ride with me.”

“With you?” she squeaked, her spine going rigid.

“Behind me.” He sure as hell wasn’t having her sit in his lap all the way back to her house.

She licked her lips. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

No, he did not. “I can walk.”

“No. I don’t want that.” She shot a look at the outlaw’s saddlebags on Bram’s mount. “I guess you don’t want to let that money out of your sight?”

“That’s part of it. If we run into a threat, the lame horse won’t have the burden.”

Concern flashed across her face. “Run into a threat? Do you expect trouble?”

“Thanks to the dust storm erasing any tracks, I have no way of knowing Cosgrove’s whereabouts.”

She paled, her eyes vivid blue in her ashen face. “He could be over the next rise.”

“Yes.” Bram didn’t particularly like scaring her, but she needed to be prepared. “If something happens to me, you ride like hell for help.”

She looked stricken.

“Deborah?”

At his sharp tone, she nodded. “Yes, all right.”

“Keep the sun in front of you and ride until you come to the Circle R.”

“All right.”

After checking the cinch on Cosgrove’s black mare, Bram mounted Scout and held his hand out to Deborah. “Ready?”

She hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, impatient to get going.

“I assume I’ll have to ride astride.”

“Yes.”

She bit her lip, looking uncertain. “My skirts …”

He gave a heavy sigh. “Did you ride astride on your way here?”

“Yes, but I was alone. And I tried to make sure no one saw me.”

Bram bit off the reminder that last night he’d seen a damn sight more than her stockings or petticoats. The memory of her full breasts and slender thighs revealed by the lamplight shining through the thin cloth of her chemise was seared on his brain.

“You’ll be behind me, so I won’t see anything. Besides, you wouldn’t last two minutes if you tried to ride sitting to the side.”

After a moment she stepped to the edge of the porch. He gripped her forearm and swung her up behind him. She didn’t weigh anything.

She shifted, tugging her skirts down on one side then the other. Every time she moved, her soft full breasts brushed his back. He couldn’t stand much of that.

Jaw tight, he pressed the mare’s reins into Deborah’s hand. “You lead Cosgrove’s horse.”

“All right.”

From the corner of his eye he caught a flash of a white stocking and the hem of her pale blue floral dress. He glanced over his shoulder, her silky hair tickling his neck.

“Ready?” he asked gruffly.

When she said yes, he urged his horse into motion. Deborah fell full against him, her oomph of breath burning through his shirt.

“Oh!” She jerked away, startling Scout, who gave a backward hop to keep his balance. Deborah bounced against Bram.

“Be still,” he ordered.

“Sorry.” She sat stiffly, quietly at his back, holding herself away from him.

Fine with him. All he had to do was get her home and deliver her to her family. He wouldn’t let her get to him.

Scout started down a steep hill and Deborah pitched to one side, yelping.

Bram grabbed for her, his hand clamping down on whatever limb he could reach because of her odd angle behind him. He steadied her at his back, registering a froth of skirts over his arm and a thin layer of fabric under his fingers. Fabric like … undergarments. Drawers.

He froze. So did she.

He realized then that his hand was up her skirts, high on her thigh. Beneath his touch, he felt a whisper of muscle. His grip tightened almost imperceptibly, but it was enough to have Deborah making a sound deep in her throat.

A kind of sighing moan that made Bram’s body go hard.

He jerked his hand back, batting away the yards of fabric.

“Hang on to … something,” he growled, irritated at the low throb in his blood.

She steadied herself behind him, her hands curling over the cantle.

“Where are we?”

“On Circle R land.” He looked out over the rippling prairie, a mix of green and gold with patches of orange and red and yellow wildflowers sprinkled throughout. The tall grass made a swishing noise as their horses moved.

“All of this is yours?” Her breath tickled his nape and he caught a faint whiff of her scent.

He nodded.

“Have I ever been here before?” Her voice was small.

“No.”

“At least that’s one thing I’m not supposed to remember,” she muttered.

Bram didn’t speak. He focused on the rolling landscape in front of him, the clear sunny day, the lumbering gait of the horse following them. Anything except the feel of Deborah so close to him. So close that he could feel the occasional puff of her breath against his nape.

He clenched his jaw.

Behind him, she slid and slipped around a few times. Not once did she reach for him to steady herself. That shouldn’t have irritated him, but it did.

What did she think? That one touch from her would strip his control, have him shucking her out of her clothes?

Heat surged through him at that tempting thought and he bit his cheek. Hell.

Scout picked his way down the steep bank of a deep gully and Cosgrove’s mare gingerly followed behind. The gelding started up the opposite earth wall, lunging forward to gain ground.

Deborah shrieked, canting off to the side.

This time Bram managed to grab her arm. After pulling her up for the second time, he took her hand and curled it around his waist. “Leave it there.”

Neither spoke as they continued on.

Bram tried to ignore the feel of her soft curves against him. It didn’t help that from the corner of his eye he could see her skirts creep higher on her leg, exposing her drawers to the knee. All that did was stoke the memory of his hand under her skirts.

It was hot. He was hot. Because of her.

Feeling as if he were being choked, Bram ran a finger around the loose neck of his shirt. He wanted her until he ached with it. And each minute he spent with her felt as though his skin were being peeled off.

After what seemed like an hour, but was probably only a third of that, they passed the Ross family cemetery, then reached the mouth of the creek that ran across Circle R land and onto Riley Holt’s pasture.

The now-dirt-filled creek that held painful memories for Bram.

He stiffened. With her arm around him, she had to feel it.

“Have I been here before?”

It wasn’t the warm wash of her breath against his neck that made Bram glance back. It was the wistfulness in her voice.

She was staring hard at the water that had been stirred a sandy-red by the dust storm. Sunlight glittered on the surface, dappled the ground through the leafy branches of an old pecan tree.

“Yes, you’ve been here. Do you remember?”

“No.” Frustration thickened her voice as her gaze met his. “Your reaction made me wonder.”

He didn’t tell her this was where she had informed him that she was leaving. And ripped out his heart.

Yes, she’d sworn she would return to him, but his ma had said the same and she had never come home. When he had finally tracked down Frannie Ross, she hadn’t even recognized him. Just as Deborah didn’t now.

That realization made Bram’s anger flare to life again.

“Did something bad happen here?” she asked tentatively.

Tightening his grip on the reins, he thought about not answering, but what did it matter? “Guess it depends on your point of view. This is where I proposed.”

She was silent for a long moment. So long that he thought maybe she hadn’t heard him. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” The memory still had the power to make him wince.

Bram fought the urge to knee Scout into a run, get away from Deborah as quickly as possible. But the last thing he needed was for her to be plastered to him, holding on for dear life.

Especially after being cooped up with her overnight and feeling her lithe curves against him all during the ride. She was too near, her eyes too soft with a vulnerability that made him want to take care of her.

He ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached, and he urged Scout forward.

The packed trail gave way to hilly grassy pasture. Evergreen trees and brush spotted the rolling landscape. Vibrant patches of wildflowers bloomed across the field.

In the distance, he spotted two of his ranch hands rounding up stray cows. After stopping to speak to them and leave Cosgrove’s injured mare, he and Deborah continued on.

When they finally topped the rise near her home, Bram pointed to the log structure at the bottom of the slope. “There’s your house.”

Her hand tightened on his waist. “I don’t recognize it,” she said tremulously.

He looked over his shoulder at her, his hat grazing the top of her head. Her pert nose was slightly sunburned, but it was her eyes that held his attention.

The sharp disappointment in the blue depths razored through him. She appeared lost and he saw hope seep out of her, like water from a leaky pail.

When her gaze met his, tears welled in her eyes.

“Oh, hell,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I really thought I would remember my own house.”

“It’s okay.”

“I— What if they don’t want me?”

Bram stared at her. She had likely been thinking such things during the entire ride. The more distance he had put between them and the cabin, the more heaviness he had sensed from her.

A strange feeling unfurled in his chest. “Of course they’ll want you.”

“Thank you for bringing me … here. And for helping me.” She made as though to slide off.

Bram grabbed her wrist. “What are you doing?”

“You said this was my house.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to go down there alone.” He couldn’t just deposit her like a bag of laundry and leave. His voice was gruff. “I’ll explain everything.”

“You will?”

He nodded.

“Thank you,” she said softly, relief plain on her face. “Thank you.”

The small whisper of her breath teased his lips and his gaze dropped to her mouth.

He was aware of the rapid flutter of her pulse in the hollow of her throat. The black satin of her hair gathered back in a ponytail that slid over her shoulder. Hair he wanted to free and bury his hands in. Mixed in with that awareness was the infernal protectiveness he couldn’t shake.

It frustrated the hell out of him. Pulling his attention from her, he guided Scout into the yard. Bram threw one leg over the gelding’s neck and slid to the ground, then turned to help Deborah dismount.

He lifted her down, his hands closing on her taut waist. Her breasts brushed his chest and her hips pressed to his as he slowly set her on her feet. Bram bit his cheek against the urge to pull her full into him. He couldn’t let himself get tangled up in their past.

For a long moment their eyes held. A rosy flush stained her cheeks.

She looked away, appearing confused and overwhelmed. And frightened, Bram realized. She had worn the same expression when he had come upon her in the cabin.

His chest ached as he asked quietly, “You okay?”

“I think so.”

He lifted his hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face.

“Deborah!”

She started and so did Bram. Together, they turned to face the tall woman rushing toward them.

“That’s your mother, Jessamine.”

Three younger women burst out of the house, excitement and relief plain on their faces as they moved in Deborah’s direction.

“Oh, thank you for bringing her home, Bram!” Mrs. Blue said. “I didn’t know you were going after her.”

“I didn’t.” He removed his hat. “I found her at the cabin on the other side of the Circle R.”

“The cabin? Why?” Jessamine frowned, her blue gaze shifting to her oldest daughter. “Your note said you were going to Abilene.”

“There’s an explanation,” Bram said. He wondered if her family would have as much trouble with it as he had at first.

“I should hope so.” The older woman leveled a look on Deborah. “You’ve never lied to me before.”

Deborah’s fingers curled into the loose shirt fabric at Bram’s waist. He glanced at her. If she was holding on to him so tightly, she had to be afraid. He noted the paleness of her skin and the alarm on her face. She didn’t recognize her mother or sisters.

Without thinking, Bram stepped slightly in front of Deborah, shielding her. “Hold up a minute, Mrs. Blue. We have a problem.”

The older woman stilled, as did Deborah’s sisters. Jessamine’s dark hair was threaded with gray, but the younger women were all raven haired like Deborah. Jordan’s eyes were the same sky-blue, but the two younger sisters, Michal and Marah, had silver eyes like their older brother. All of them fixed anxious gazes on him.

“Something’s happened,” he said.

Jessamine looked around him to her daughter. Her eyes widened. “You’re hurt! How badly?”

“She’s bruised some.” Bram couldn’t stop a fresh rush of fury at Cosgrove.

As succinctly as possible, Bram explained how he had been on Cosgrove’s trail and tracked the thief’s horse from Monaco to the Ross cabin. There Bram had found Deborah instead of the outlaw. He ended with the information that Deborah had no memory.

“No memory?” Confusion clouded the older woman’s eyes. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Neither have I.” Bram dragged a hand down his face. “But I think it’s true.”

Deborah’s fist tightened on his shirt.

Jessamine asked quietly, “Is Cosgrove the one who hurt her?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jordan, closest in age to Deborah, looked at Bram, her gaze steady and troubled. “She doesn’t remember anything or anyone?”

He shook his head.

“She’ll remember me.” The youngest girl stepped forward. “I’m Marah and this is Felix.”

The girl reached into the pocket of the apron covering her yellow dress and pulled out a field mouse. Bram knew she had made the animal her pet more than a year ago. Cupping it in her hand, she held the rodent up to Deborah. The mouse blinked.

Deborah’s eyes filled with tears and she pressed closer to Bram. “I don’t. I apologize.”

“But …” Marah’s gray eyes flashed with uncertainty as she looked at their mother.

Michal stood quietly, her eyes wide and watchful.

Bram was hit with the need to ease Deborah’s way. “She’s been through hel—an ordeal. Give her some time, okay?”

“Of course,” Jessamine said. “Oh, my dear girl, I’m so sorry.”

She came forward slowly and held out a hand to her daughter. After a moment, Deborah released her hold on Bram, stepping up beside him.

“Come inside,” Jessamine coaxed. “We’ll get you a bath. After that you can sleep or eat, whatever you want.”

Deborah glanced up at Bram, her eyes clouded with doubt.

His chest tightened. He shifted, lightly cupping her elbow. “It’s okay.”

Skirts brushing the tops of his boots, Deborah let herself be drawn into the circle of women.

Michal gave a small smile and squeezed her arm.

“Go with the girls, honey,” Mrs. Blue said. “They’ll get you a bath.”

As the women walked off, Deborah gave Bram a last pleading look over her shoulder. A look that pierced him right in the heart.

Jessamine turned to him. “She doesn’t remember anything?”

“No.” His gaze traced the slender, taut line of Deborah’s back as she walked away. “And that’s not the worst of it. You need to know that Cosgrove will likely show up here.”

“What? Why?”

Bram explained about the stolen bank money and his belief that Cosgrove would hunt Deborah down for it.

Alarm pinched the woman’s thin features. “If he does that, he could hurt her again!”

“I won’t let that happen.” Bram might intend to use her as bait—that didn’t mean he would let anything happen to her.

He shared his plan to provide protection for Deborah. “I’m headed into Whirlwind to tell Davis Lee everything.”

Hearing hoofbeats, he looked across the prairie, recognizing the roan gelding loping toward them. “That’s Duffy Ingram, one of my hands. I told him to follow me over here. He’ll stand watch until I return tonight.”

“Do you really think that’s necessary?”

“Yes, ma’am. In fact, I’ve arranged for someone to be here around the clock.”

Her eyes widened.

“Duffy will share daytime duties with Amos Fuller, another of my ranch hands. They’ll each take an eight-hour shift and I’ll be here at night.”

“I’ll let the girls know we need to be aware. And armed.”

Bram nodded. One advantage of having a Texas Ranger son was that Jericho had taught all of the Blue women to shoot. And to hit what they aimed for.

Once he had introduced Duffy to Mrs. Blue and left instructions that the ranch hand not let Deborah out of his sight, Bram mounted up. His gaze went to the house, and he hoped she would soon feel at ease.

Now that it was time to go, he didn’t feel right about leaving her. He snorted. What a half-wit. Hadn’t she planned to do that very thing to him?

He had to remember that. Had to remember she was his way to Cosgrove and that’s all she was.

Deborah watched Bram ride away. He didn’t go in the direction they’d come, but instead guided his mount past the house.

She had remembered the place where Bram had proposed. Not the way he had remembered, with details, but when they had paused at the water, she had been overcome by anger followed by a heavy sadness. Then an image, a flash of … something. And a pounding in her head.

His explanation of what had happened there accounted for the suffocating sadness that had rolled over her. That piece of memory had left her half expecting to remember her family. But she didn’t.

As she had stared at them, the realization had hit her like a blow. For a moment she hadn’t been able to breathe. Panic and crushing disappointment slammed her hard enough that she had wanted to lean into his wide chest, let him shelter her from a dark bitter crush of emotion. But she hadn’t.

“Bram’s going into Whirlwind.” Mrs. Blue—her mother—joined the others on the porch and looked at Deborah. “Oh, that’s a nearby town.”

She appreciated the information even though this was something she actually knew. “He told me about Whirlwind.”

“Good.” The other woman smiled softly.

As Bram kneed his horse into a lope, Deborah tore her gaze from his broad shoulders and turned to her family.

Mrs. Blue continued, “He plans to talk to the sheriff and explain what’s going on.”

“Did he tell you about the money?” she asked. “And Cosgrove?”

“Yes.”

“Cosgrove!” Jordan frowned. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“I don’t like him, Deborah,” said the girl with the mouse.

Deborah recalled her name was Marah.

“What money?” Michal asked, pulling her long black hair over her shoulder.

Jordan watched Deborah somberly. Almost warily. “Do you really not remember Bram?”

“No.”

“You’re completely smitten with him.”

Mrs. Blue herded them toward the door. “Let’s go inside. Your sister might like to eat or bathe. And we can talk.”

Sister. Deborah looked at the women around her. All raven haired, all pretty, all showing the same puzzlement that she felt. And she didn’t recognize a single one of them.

Any more than she recognized the man who had asked her to marry him. The man she was supposedly in love with.