Читать книгу Branded Hearts - Diana Hall - Страница 11

As soon as Cade stepped out the bunkhouse door, Garret hauled him around the corner. “In town, I heard news about rustlers. Nearly two hundred head of cattle are missing.”

He paused as he faced the barn where Hawk waited with two mounts, ready to ride out. “The last spread they hit was McVery’s, and he’s just north of town.”

Cade’s gaze followed Garret’s stare. “Kit and Hawk ain’t lassoed up with thieves.”

“We don’t know that.” Garret had to be positive Cade realized the danger to the ranch and to himself. Those two Indians could be tracking the Rockin’ G’s livestock and defenses. Both were scarce. “I’ve got nothing to go on except those Indians showing up at the same time as the rustlers. That’s nothing to condemn a man for.”

“Or a woman.”

Garret chose to ignore his little brother’s baiting re-mark. “You keep an eye on that Indian. Remember, he’s your responsibility.”

A roguish smile stretched Cade’s lips. “I’ll do that. But you be sure to do the same.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Garret felt as if his brother were luring him into a box canyon.

“Kit’s your hire.” Cade gave him a wink. “You make sure you keep an eye on her. A real close eye.” He gave Garret a jaunty salute then whistled as he strolled over to the barn. Slapping the big Indian on the back like an old friend, Cade saddled up and the two rode out.

Striding to the cabin, Garret threw open the door and entered the cool interior. He peeked out the curtainless window and spied Kit toting out saddles, her shoulders draped with bridles. She settled down in the shade near the pump and started scrubbing the leather.

What was he going to do with the likes of her? Garret rubbed his hand down his face. He paced between the cookstove and table until he reached the flour sacks that marked off Cade’s room. A quick pivot, ten paces, and he had reached the ragged quilt that sectioned off his room.

Memories tugged at his heart. He found himself lifting the curtain and walking over to his bed. At the foot, he stared at the trunk. Rubbing his hands down his jeans, he worked the stiff straps free then unlocked the trunk and swung the lid open, releasing the scent of cedar.

With reverence, he pulled out a quilt. Evenly spaced stitches held a kaleidoscope of patches. The red square came from Pa’s shirt. A faded triangle of blue had long ago been Garret’s coveralls, then Cade’s, then finally a part of his mother’s creation.

Time slipped away, and Garret returned to the homestead of his childhood. He could hear the sound of his pa’s fiddle and Ma’s clear voice calling her family to supper. Cade, just a baby swinging in a hammock in the dugout, giggled and sucked a sugar-water rag.

Why had he even saved the quilt? The bits of cloth no longer represented his life. They belonged to a family that existed fifteen years ago. Before his pa was bushwacked and his ma turned to whoring for money.

Despite the weight in his heart, he placed the quilt back in the trunk and picked up a leather satchel. His fingers shook as he flipped back the cover.

Brown, wrinkled papers, the ink faded with age, crackled as he shuffled through them. His mother’s fine script pleaded with him from the pages. The shame of his desertion stirred up a guilt so strong, so overpowering that it threatened to choke out the tears locked in his heart.

That trunk had remained unopened for five years, since the start of the ranch. He knew why the desire to hold that quilt came over him. Crossing over to the open window, he watched Kit working under the shade of the pines.

Deceitful, conniving, ice water for blood. He knew the type. Wasn’t surprised Cade took a liking to her. Every saloon packed the bar with them. There was nothing demure or soft about Kit. Except for her hair. Like dark cornsilk. His fingers had slid through the strands with a mind of their own, reluctant to leave the satiny touch.

Heat flamed in his groin. Lust didn’t play a part in his plans for the future. A good year, some expansion, then he could propose to Abigail.

Abigail—she’d jump to the wrong conclusion about Kit faster than a jackrabbit headed for the brush. And then there was Sam Benton. Slighting his niece and hiring two half-breeds would not win Garret an introduction and a chance at the cavalry contract.

But if he threw the two off the Rockin’ G, he’d be saving his ranch and losing his brother. He’d deserted his ma. Garret wouldn’t make the same mistake with Cade. The ranch represented Cade’s best hope of amounting to something besides a cardsharp. And to secure the ranch’s future, Garret needed that army deal.

Solving this quandary was about as easy as tying down a bobcat with a piece of string. Near impossible. But not completely out of the question. All Garret needed to do was drive Kit away. Her brother would follow. He would be rid of the Indians without overruling Cade.

Kit O’Shane would leave and leave soon. He made the vow and left the cabin. As he slammed the door, he wished he could shut away the memories sewn into the quilt and his heart as easily.