Читать книгу Branded Hearts - Diana Hall - Страница 12

Kit’s eyelids flew open. Her heart pounded in her chest. A quivery weakness raked her body as she lay on her rickety cot. Another night, the same recurring nightmare.

As she sat upright, her feet collided with the sleeping ranch cur. After nearly a week of sharing quarters, she and Chili had reached an uneasy compromise. She got the bed. The dog retained ownership of the moth-eaten blankets. On the floor.

“Kit?” Hawk paused from coiling his lariat near the window. “I thought you had fallen asleep.”

Each evening, her brother lagged at the barn until all the cowhands had bedded down. A formidable wall of protection against living, breathing men, Hawk couldn’t ward off the horror in her dreams.

For a second, she wished Hawk could take her dreams from her, make her forget the terror she had lived through. But the nightmares helped her focus on her goal. A man’s death. The annihilation of Jando’s evil. She closed her eyes and asked, “Did you find anything today?”

Her brother’s silence answered her question. No. Five days without a sign of the rustlers.

She dislodged her boots from under Chili’s warm body, slipped them on and wove her way through the tack to stand next to her brother. “There’s a few hours before sunset. I think I’ll take a walk down near the river.”

Her brother rose, tight-lipped and scowling, seeing through her white lie. “You walk when the spirits speak. I will go with you.”

“No.” Kit shook her head. “I know you mean well. But I have to learn to not be afraid.”

Her brother’s lips tightened into a firm line. “I failed you in the village and fail you here. Garret Blaine works you like a slave.” Frustration seethed in her brother’s voice. “And I allow it.”

“I allow it,” Kit corrected. “And every chore is worth it if it helps us find Jando.” Shrugging her shoulders, she gave her brother a wry smile. “The Rockin’ G’s not so bad. Food’s good. Accommodations livable. And then there’s Cade.” Humor brought a smile to her lips. “I think he could charm the rattle off a snake if he set his mind to it.”

“He cannot charm his brother.”

“No, he can’t.” She bit her lower lip. If Garret was hard on her, he was twice as severe with Cade. Not once had she heard the older brother praise the younger, or offer a word of encouragement. Then again, Kit had stumbled onto more than one work-time poker game, with the younger Blaine scraping in the ante. “I suppose Cade enjoys our presence. It gives Garret someone else to criticize.”

“You do more than your fair share of work.”

“I get a great deal of satisfaction provoking the elder Blaine.” So far, Kit was the winner in the battle of wills between herself and the rancher. The heady thrill of victory lifted some of her dread.

“This I have noticed.” A mild tone of censure tempered Hawk’s voice. He cuffed her chin with his fist. “Go take your walk. But do not go far.”

“Only to that rock.” She pointed toward a dark finger of granite at the river’s edge. “I’ll be back at sundown.”

Hawk handed her a wool serape as she passed. “Sundown, then I will come for you.” Finality carved his words.

Kit accepted the terms—a solitary constitutional timed by her protective brother. There had been a time when she would have chafed at the limits on her freedom. Now she understood the necessity. Father had been right—the world could be incredibly cruel.

The door creaked as she opened it. Chili pulled himself to his feet and rushed out ahead of her. The old dog took every opportunity to put her in her place. Second. Master and hound had a lot in common. She glimpsed the dog’s tail as he rounded the cabin.

Outside, pale shades of amethyst and turquoise tinted the sky. She rested her elbows on the corral fence and whistled low. The stallion lifted his regal head, sniffed the air and trotted over to her. He nosed her shirt pocket, aware of the sugar cube hidden inside.

“Here you go, big fella.” Kit dug the cube out and held it flat on her palm. While the horse munched contentedly, she admitted, “You know I don’t bring you treats just to drive Garret crazy.”

The horse snorted, not fooled by her entreaty. All right, getting under Garret’s skin was her foremost enjoyment.

He had expected her gone after the first night. One look at her hard at work before sunrise, and the swagger had left his step. And this morning! Oh, if only she could have preserved the rancher’s shocked face. It was worth every aching muscle to see his cocksure grin melt and his eyes glitter with surprise.

Garret Blaine might not be a man to push, but she wasn’t a woman to easily succumb to pressure. She and Hawk would remain on the ranch until they no longer needed a cover. Then she would gladly wave farewell to the scowling rancher.

A refreshing soak while she reveled in her remarkable tenacity with Garret would ease her nerves. She headed for the river, knowing that after a bath she’d sleep well, especially knowing Garret wouldn’t.

Enjoying the coming sunset, Garret watched Chili wind himself into a comfortable position on the porch. A faint line of smoke rose from the bunkhouse chimney. The tinny sound of Vega’s guitar floated in the air along with Cracker’s off-key singing. His wranglers were fixing to bed down, worn out from an honest day’s labor.

A few solitary minutes to collect his thoughts and he’d be ready for some shut-eye himself. If he could get any. Peaceful sleep was a memory. The sound of Kit’s ax chopping wood until the late hours had kept him awake last night. Along with his conscience. A woman, no matter if she dressed in pants and wore a knife the size of his forearm, could take only so much.

An irritated neigh called from the corral. Garret shifted from his seat and craned his neck around the corner. Kit with the stallion again. And not another soul around.

Where the hell was that brother of hers? Come quitting time, Hawk usually stood sentry over Kit, an imposing barrier to any cowboy that tried to saddle up to the girl. A barrier Garret was mighty glad to let stand. He wanted Kit gone, but he didn’t want her hurt.

He watched her as she, ambled toward the water, glistening with the late-day sunlight. She walked with a natural grace, unafraid of the night sounds. The setting sun and long shadows chilled the air but she carried a poncho instead of wearing it. Her hair cascaded down her back, swaying gently as she moved, giving him a glimpse of her jean-clad legs and backside.

A primitive beauty in a primal land. His blood stirred. Barbaric urges roused in his loin. He had lived too long in a brothel not to recognize pure, unadulterated lust. The intensity shook him. Downright frightened him.

If she tempted him, there was no telling what fire burned in the jeans of his wranglers. And Kit wasn’t helping matters. What was she doing walking alone this close to night? Was she hoping some lonely cowboy would wander down to the river?

There was just one thing to do. Go down to the river and, in calm, simple language, lay it on the line. He had a ranch to think of. A woman of upstanding reputation he was courting. She and her brother could take an honest wage for their work and ride on. Cade would never be the wiser.

He’d mind his temper and strive for a civil conversation. If he talked to her, it would be man-to-man—or rather, man-to-woman. The thought carried an unwelcome sensation to his blood, sending heat branching through his torso.

Andersonville had starved the wildness from him. Or so he thought. Each time he looked at Kit, a fresh rain fed those urges. He felt them taking root, pushing forward and growing stronger.

Kit had to go. But he needed a few moments to brace himself for the confrontation and calm the fire in his gut.

For centuries, the block of dark granite had battled the river, forcing the water to divert around its immovable mass. Unable to wash away the obstruction, the river pounded into the unyielding rock, until it gouged a Ushaped indentation. A perfect pool for a sheltered bath.

Kit swam through the cool mountain water. She let her worries and concerns float away. Tension and weariness seeped from her bones but an undercurrent of caution remained. Would always remain until Jando died.

Standing in waist-deep water, she watched the current tumble stones along the stream bottom. The rock and the river, neither willing to give up the battle. She and Garret, neither about to accept defeat. But nature had reached a compromise in forming the pool. There could be no such concession between herself and the rancher. To the bitter end, she would fight to stay, and give Hawk time to track down Jando.

She emerged from the water, her hair plastered to her neck and back, and shivered as a breeze skipped across her skin. Her flannel shirt served as a towel first, then a robe. Lifting her mass of hair, she untangled it from her shirt collar to let it dry.

Covered to her knees, she retrieved her pants from the scraggly branches of a juniper and wiggled into them. The cotton material clung to her still-damp body. She hopped up and down to work the jeans up her legs.

Clean and refreshed, Kit slipped on her boots, then wrapped herself in the thick warmth of the serape. Leaning against the rough granite, she listened to the prairie.

Crickets chirped. Fish splashed in the stream. Sweet grass whispered to the wind. The sharp, pungent smell of sage and juniper scented the breeze. Serenity floated away the last vestiges of her nightmare. She had to give Garret credit for choosing this spot to place his ranch. The Rockin’ G was an Eden.

Like a mother tucking in her child, evening enveloped the rolling hills. The sun balanced on the mountain horizon. Stars dusted the sky, the twinkling lights pale in the twilight. Three radiant stars lined up low in the sky. Orion’s belt.

Lightning bugs winked in the tall grass, and she heard the swish of prairie grass being stepped on. By habit, she placed a hand on the hilt of her knife. Steady footsteps thudded the ground, drawing nearer. She kept her voice smooth and unaffected by the approaching stranger. “Do you share an interest in astronomy or are you spying?”

Garret Blaine rounded the tip of the boulder and stopped short. A small cowlick danced in the slight breeze. His full lips were pressed into a scowl, ready for an argument. “I want to talk with you.”

“About astronomy?” Kit gave him a delightfully obtuse smile, meant to throw him off balance and give her time to regain hers. The fluttering in her heart started. Fingernails of fear dug into her soul. Swallowing hard, she refused to allow anything more than a casual facade to show. Words rambled from her mouth. “I prefer the myths that correlate with the constellations to the actual science.”

The old dog sat on the rancher’s heels, his growl like the sound of a distant tornado.

“What are you talking about?” Garret shook his head. He had been working the girl too hard, she was talking loco.

“The stars.” She looped a strand of wet hair behind her ear and pointed toward the sky. “There’s so many, how could you miss them?”

“I’ve seen stars.” Garret brushed away her comment while his gaze riveted on her appearance. Droplets of water hung like dew on her walnut-colored skin and glistened at the hollow of her throat. Ebony hair lay sleek and wet against the nape of her neck.

Bathing! Out here. Alone. Didn’t the girl have a bit of sense? A timber wolf could have crept up on her. Or a lust-frenzied cowhand. Then what would she have done?

As though reading his mind, she rubbed the hilt of her knife with her thumb.

“I got a ranch to run,” Garret reminded her and himself. “I don’t have time to waste looking at the sky. Now, I want to talk to you—”

“Never just a few spare minutes to enjoy your surroundings?” She taunted him with her clear azure gaze. “Come now, Mr. Blaine, a man doesn’t choose to build his home in this location without appreciating the beauty of it.”

She didn’t waste kindling getting a fire started in the pit of Garret’s stomach. “Best place to put the cabin, there by the pines,” he said.

“Oh, I agree.” That little half smile came back, along with his own longings. “Those evergreens make a tremendous windbreak, plus the scent is heavenly. And the river’s close enough to draw water from.”

“I got a well, so come winter I don’t have to break river ice.” These few hundred acres were his life, his future. “I plan to keep building.”

“Another corral? A smokehouse?”

That thorn of discomfort stabbed deeper. Kit seemed to know what he was going to say before he did. Caution and surprise made him answer slowly, “Thinking about those and adding on to the cabin.”

“The cabin?” Kit wrinkled her brow. “That seems rather extraneous. There’s only Cade and you. The bunkhouse is sufficient, even if you increase your employees.”

Garret wasn’t quite sure what extraneous meant, but he could guess. “For right now. But with a good drive, I might be thinking of taking a wife.”

Her eyebrows unfurled, one arched in a delicate dark line. “Taking a wife? Interesting choice of words, Mr. Blaine. And do you have an intended hostage selected?” Her tone implied she extended her deepest sympathy to his betrothed.

“Abigail Benton.”

“Ah, so you intend to marry for money.”

“I do not. I can take care of my woman. If given the chance.”

“So, you’re marrying her uncle, Sam Benton.”

“Benton can open doors that are usually shut to the son of a saloon girl.”

“And love?” Kit leaned back against the boulder. The action accentuated the graceful arch of her neck.

“It’ll come,” Garret assured Kit. Abigail expected a man who would honor his vows and supply her with a fine home. In return, she would present him with a social standing in the community. Business, pure and simple. No cumbersome emotions to tangle up between them. “Abigail’s a fine woman.”

“For a parlor room. She’ll make sure all your china matches, your silver is polished, and your household staff doesn’t cheat you.” Cocking her head toward his oneroom cabin, Kit snorted. “I can see now why you’ll need to add on, at least a wing for the kitchen staff.”

“Now hold on.” Garret didn’t like the condescending tone Kit was using. “You got no call talking about Miss Benton that way.”

“I can talk about Miss Benton any way I choose.” Kit emphasized Abigail’s title. “And everything I said was the truth.”

“You know, you could learn a few things from a lady like her.”

He expected anger. A sharp, witty retort. She laughed. Nothing like Abigail’s titter behind her lace fan. Kit released a gut-busting, side-splitting caterwaul. She licked her lips then pressed them together, composing herself. “There might be a few things Abigail Benton could learn from me.”

“Like what? How to wear pants and throw a knife?”

“Yes.” A distant look came over Kit’s eyes, like looking at the far shore of a mountain lake. “The West is untamed, Mr. Blaine. Your Miss Benton wouldn’t be able to protect herself very well with a silver spoon.”

“I said, I can take care of my woman.”

“Yes, I’m sure you will. But no one can guard a loved one twenty-four hours a day.” She puckered her lower lip and gave him a heavy-lidded glance. The spark left her eyes, replaced with sadness. Then, like a summer storm, it was over. A sly smile crossed her lips. “I would think Cade would be more to Abigail’s taste than you. He’s quite the ladies’ man.”

“My brother wouldn’t know a lady if she bit him on the nose.”

“Well, if she did bite him on the nose, she wouldn’t be much of a lady, now would she?” Kit’s smile deepened. A dimple formed on her left cheek. “Cade is quite witty, and very handsome.”

Hellfire! This whole conversation had drifted into the badlands. A horrible suspicion congealed in Garret’s mind. Was that little hellcat thinking of sinking her claws into Cade? She might be about the same age as Cade, but Garret would guess she was years more experienced. His brother was just fool enough to fall for her.

“Cade is off-limits to you,” he warned.

“Off-limits?” The smile disappeared. Its absence sent a strange sense of disappointment filtering through Garret. Animosity blistered across her face.

“Don’t think you’re going to worm your way into Cade’s affections.”

“Worm?” she huffed. The dark blue of her eyes frosted.

“You think you can get a piece of my ranch by latching onto my kin.”

“I don’t know which is more pathetic, your overinflated pride or the way you treat your brother.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Garret’s voice rose. He lost all hope for a calm and logical conversation. The woman was beyond it. Chili’s growl grew louder; he bared his teeth.

She faced him and poked him in the shoulder with her index finger, “It means you have a poor opinion of Cade if you think the only woman that would marry him would be after your ranch. Your brother is kind, generous, delightfully amusing and extremely attractive.” Her voice rose, also, not shrill, but forceful and direct.

Kit’s list of Cade’s attributes stung. Garret didn’t want to hear her thoughts about him. “I know exactly what kind of man my brother is.”

“You certainly don’t express it.”

“I’ve had it with this.” Garret swatted his hand at the air between them, brushing away her comments as if they were an annoying gnat. “You’ve lectured me on the woman I plan to marry and the way I treat my brother.”

“There hasn’t been time to address any other issues.” She clipped each word with a back-east accent.

Chili picked up the lull in the conversation by snapping at Kit then sitting back, a deep rumble in his chest. Undaunted, Kit snapped right back and growled lower. The old dog looked at Garret, surprise and confusion in his dark brown eyes. Chili didn’t know what to make of Kit any more than Garret did.

“And I want you to stop that. Quit picking on my dog.”

“He started it.” Kit turned her attention from Chili to Garret. Her glacial stare pierced him. Two icicles of sapphire blue.

The woman was impossible and always had to have the last word. “You’d argue about anything, wouldn’t you? You’d even butt heads with a three-legged dog.”

“Why not?” she called over her shoulder as she marched past him. “I argue with the two-legged variety.” Rounding the boulder, she disappeared from Garret’s sight. He detected the exchange of whispers, then the soft thud of feet retreating back toward the ranch. Looking around the boulder, he spied Hawk standing near Kit, his arm protectively around her shoulder. So where was Cade? Obviously not following the Indian.

Kit O’Shane had more prickles than a cactus. And Garret felt as if he had walked right over every thorn. He watched her ramrod-stiff back melt into the darkness. That woman was cantankerous. Ill-tempered. Hardheaded. And she had succeeded in keeping him from discussing her departure. He added “crafty” to her list of faults.

Pompous. Extraneous. Address the issues. Astronomy and constellations. Kit threw out three-dollar words as if she had a vault full of them. Hawk didn’t tote around a vocabulary like his sister’s.

Something didn’t sit just right about that girl. How’d a half-breed learn words like that? Missionary schools taught more Bible learning than reading and writing. Kit didn’t learn to speak with that tone or with that accent growing up on a reservation. The mystery surrounding the two Indians muddied like a river after a downpour. How much of Kit and Hawk’s story was true, and how much of it was just a tall tale?

Garret walked back toward the cabin, a twister of thoughts and speculations blowing through his mind. And the warning of rustlers whirling in his heart.