Beyond the Broken Road, page 7
She debated her choices. If she rode north in the morning, she was unlikely to ever find those mailbags for her father. Her father had claimed he would be ruined. She didn't know if it was an exaggeration, but for sure he would suffer a financial setback. Her own reputation was already in tatters by this night with a border renegade—whether anything had actually happened to make that a ruination a fact.
More importantly than any of what should have been her obvious concerns, there was another fact. If she left in the morning, she would never see Sam Ryker again, never taste his kiss, feel his arms around her, see those beautiful, darkly rimmed blue eyes. She would return to life as it had been-- a bit besmirched, but her days would go on the way they had been.
No, she wasn’t about to do that. She had felt restrictions on her life. She had accepted others’ rules, regulations. She had let their fear be hers. Her father depended on her, but that dependence had been selfish, had kept her at his beck and call.
Well, if she married Sam Ryker. What would that do? What possible reason could such a man have for offering her marriage? She had no answers. Perhaps, as with all the men she had seen, he wanted a slave to do his bidding. Clean his home, wash his clothes, and cook his meals. She smiled with amusement. If that were so, the man was in for a bit of a disappointment. She could not imagine he wanted her be his wife because he desired her. A man who looked like him could get any woman he wanted. Why would it be her?
As questions swirled, she had no answers. She was foolish to keep trying to figure it out. This was her chance. Where it would take her, she didn’t know. She did know as clear as the silver of the moon above that if she said no to it, she’d never see Sam Ryker again.
So, she could choose to take a risk, a big one or she could return to life with her father, to life as it had been, and wither up to be the old maid she had claimed she already was. Just the taking of the risk would change her forever in ways she only barely grasped.
When she slept, she didn't know, but she woke with the first rays of morning light to realize she had curled herself against Sam's side, tucked her head onto his muscular chest. At first, she felt a sense of rightness followed immediately by one of panic. She had to get away before he woke and saw her.
She tried to inch away, but his arm tightened. She looked up then into his eyes. Too late.
"Let me go," she ordered.
He smiled. "Uh-uh."
"You have to."
"Eventually. I like this. I never woke up with a woman in my arms. Feels good."
"I can’t believe that."
He bent toward her, put his nose against her hair. “Never said I wasn't in bed with a woman, not that my past would be of any interest to you, but I've not gone to sleep with one. Your hair smells sweet, like lilacs."
His touch, the conversation was so personal, too personal. "I need to--" Oh my, it was about to get more personal. As though he understood without her asking, he said, "Over behind that bush. Nobody to see."
He rose then and headed for the small stream. When she returned from tending to her personal needs, she saw him kneeling on the bank, splashing water on his chest and arms.
He was beyond beautiful, the muscles sculpted like something by a master artist. Words didn't do justice to what she saw, and again she had to wonder why such a magnificent creature would want to marry a plain mouse like her. He could take her sexually if he so chose. That wasn't the reason for a marriage. What was?
He looked up then and saw her. Rising, he shook off water droplets. "What have you decided?" he asked, his voice giving no clue to his thoughts.
She almost asked about what. Her thoughts had been so carnal that it took her a moment to remember that he’d left her with a decision. "If you still desire it to be, I will marry you," she said. She knew there had never been a decision to make.
"All right." He grabbed his shirt and gun belt. "I've got to talk to my men. Then you and I'll head for the mission." He slipped on his shirt and buckled the gun belt to his hips.
“You... need that?”
He smiled. “I always need that.”
"With your own men?”
“They’re a pack of wolves.”
She felt a shiver of fear.
"Don’t worry. They won’t hurt you." He put up his hand to still any further objections. "You stay here, 'til I come for you." As an afterthought, he reached into his saddlebag and pulled out her gun. "Keep this with you from now on."
She swallowed her fear as she watched him stride away. If they killed him, how long would she live?
CHAPTER 6
Returning to face the men, Sam didn't expect them to like what he was about to do. He had heard the grumbling last night, known they resented his unilateral decision to bring her along, but it didn't matter.
From the moment he'd seen her in Tucson, he'd thought about her, about those high cheekbones, delicately boned face, the large dark eyes, that full, passionate, meant-to-be-kissed mouth, and a sweet woman’s body that a man could only dream how many places he could find pleasure, giving her pleasure back.
He remembered thinking, as he’d ridden out of Tucson that day, about the kind of woman she represented. He had known no women like her. The reason he had never slept with a woman is because any woman he’d have had sex with was not the kind to be trusted. Oh, he had seen women like her from a distance. She was the kind who made a man's house into a home, who gave him something to work for, to want to come back for.
He'd known with his fleeting glimpse of her in Tucson that a man could die for a woman like her, and die happy, but a man like him would have no chance of getting her for himself. She’d have shaken the dust from her skirts if he’d dared brush too close, but then fate had delivered her into his hands. He wouldn’t voluntarily let go.
He tried to quiet his mind, steady his hand, forget how soft her body had felt curled against his as he’d lain there since waking before dawn, not moving for fear of losing that softness. Now, he had to harden himself, make himself back into the man who could hold his wolf pack in line, who could bend their will to his own.
"Where's that woman?" Buck Russell snapped as soon as he saw him.
Sam pulled out his tobacco bag and rolled a cigarette. He sealed the paper, struck a match, lit the tip, and drew in the smoke before he let his gaze travel from one man to another. Only Joe smiled with a nod and no concern on his face. Ollie, his foreman, who knew him better than any man, was worried, uncertain about what this would mean. Buck Russell’s gaze challenged him. "How was your ride last night? Any chance you going to be sharing?"
Sam dropped his cigarette with regret, grinding it out with his boot before he moved forward, his fist lashing out with a blow hard enough to set Buck on his butt. The big man sat there, rubbing his jaw and glaring up at Sam. "Didn't mean nothin'."
“Then you should’ve kept your mouth shut.” Sam let his gaze travel over the other men. "Anybody else got nothing to say, spit it out."
"Don't like a woman traveling with us. They’re bad luck. This won’t bring good to any of us." Sam had expected that from Snake Bill, who had acquired the nickname partially for his liking of snake skins but more for his personality.
"She'll be traveling with me. Not us."
"Same thing."
Sam shook his head. "No. It isn't. Do I need to teach you the difference?"
Snake shook his head and looked away.
"Anybody else got concerns?"
Only Ollie dared confront him. "What are you thinkin'? Bringing a woman like her along with us. She's different, don't you know that?"
"And so?”
"When they realize she’s gone, they'll come chasing us. Men get strung up for taking a woman like that one."
"Only under some conditions."
Ollie snorted. "Don't know which ones they don't."
"Marriage being one."
The older man's eyes widened, and no one else said a word. Finally, Ollie managed, "You marrying her?" When Ollie saw the look in Sam's eyes, he swallowed, cutting off a plug of chewing tobacco and stuffing it into his mouth. "You're as blind as a posthole if you think marrying a woman like that one is going to keep her."
"She'll leave you right out of the gate," Buck agreed.
"Thanks for your good wishes," Sam said.
"Good wishes don't do a fool, no good," Snake jeered.
Sam let his gaze move around the men, lingering longest on Rock Thompson. If anyone had the nerve to go toe to toe with him, it would be the quiet, big man. He was several inches taller than Sam, outreached him, and outweighed him by thirty pounds. This time though Rock glanced at him, then shrugged, looking away. It would take Rock awhile to work through what he thought about anything.
"Any of you want to split off, that's fine with me," Sam said. "You can collect your pay at the ranch. If you stay with me, you'll treat my wife with dignity." He raised his eyebrows expressively. "Got it?"
Ollie spit into the ground at his own feet, just missing his boots. "It's your funeral."
"Exactly." He walked to the remuda and snagged first his stallion, Satan, named for his color and disposition, then her mare, tightening the saddles on them both. Satan attempted a couple of quick nips at him but gave up when his nose was slapped hard.
As Sam walked through camp, leading the two horses, Ollie was the only one who had the nerve to question him. "What's the plan?"
"We split up. Two by two. Everybody pick a different way to the ranch. We might not be followed, but if we are, I don’t want any of you leading them there. Got that? I'm taking the woman to the mission."
"You figuring you can talk Father Marcos into marrying you?"
Sam smiled coldly. "Eventually."
Abby had braided her hair into one long, thick braid. She was sitting waiting when he returned. She looked up with questioning dark eyes, but she said nothing as he told her they would ride a few miles with the others, then split away. She petted the nose of Belle, talking to her softly.
"She your own horse?" Sam asked, noting the tender care.
"I bought Belle three years ago."
"She's a nice little mare."
She looked skeptically at his own big horse, who was balking at Sam's tying his bedroll onto the back of the saddle. "Which is more than I can say for that monster you ride."
"Satan's all right."
"Satan? You named a horse Satan. Whatever were you thinking?"
"That it fit him." Satan was living up to his name as he shied away when Sam put his foot into the stirrup. Used to the behavior, Sam vaulted into the saddle, then put up with a couple of perfunctory bucks before Satan settled down to accept his position--under the rider—if not forever, at least temporarily. He smiled at Abigail as he thought the situation might not be so different with her. “Ready?” he asked, giving away none of his thoughts... he hoped.
"He is spirited," Abigail said, mounting Belle.
"That's one word for it," Sam agreed.
The others caught up with them a few hundred feet down the trail. Sam rode for a mile or two, then reined up his horse, the others followed suit as Ollie kneed his mount next to Sam. “What’s up?”
“A break,” Sam said leaning over the pommel of the saddle, the saddle leather creaking as he stood in the stirrups. He pointed to a small herd of cattle grazing contentedly in a meadow along the creek. "Round 'em up.”
"You aren't going to--to steal them, are you?" Abigail asked as she watched Sam's men ride down into the creek bottom and begin gathering the cattle.
"Rustle is, I think, the word you want," Sam said with a grin, "but no. We're just going to move them a ways." In moments, she watched as running horses and cattle hooves along the creek bottom muddied the water, leaving a mix of tracks that would be difficult to separate if anyone had been trying to follow them.
Sam's horse shied as Ollie pressed his mount too close. Satan didn't like the more lowly horse's presence and attempted to nip at him to establish who was boss. Sam jerked on the reins, pulling him back in line. Riding his horse never came easy. He wondered with self-doubt if that would prove true of his relationship with what was to be his bride. He was a fool.
"You're making a mistake taking her," Ollie repeated.
"Could be."
"Let her go."
"I'm not forcing her."
"Take her back. She'll bring you and us nothing but bad luck."
“You’re listening to Snake.”
"Nah, I just know women, and that one is trouble. She'll never be satisfied with nothing as it is."
Sam chuckled. “You worried she’s going to spoil your happy home?”
Ollie snapped out a few choice epithets.
"I know you figure you're my mama, Ollie," Sam said with a wry smile, "but it's time to cut the apron strings."
Ollie’s scowl deepened as he looked back at Abigail who was looking woebegone. "She don't belong with the likes of you."
Sam said nothing. He saw the split ahead in the mountain and signaled the men to him. "This is where we separate. Remember to watch your back trail. When I get to the ranch, I want to only find you there." In moments they'd ridden in different directions.
Sam and Abby rode in silence. His thoughts were only marginally on the creeks they crossed, the country they had to traverse. He was not letting himself think about the woman nor what he was doing. The decision had been made. He wouldn’t consider the stupidity of it nor the illusion that he was once again allowing to build in his life even knowing the futility. There was only one possible end to such reckless dreaming.
When the sun was high in the sky, he suggested stopping. They watered the horses; then sat on a log to eat the sparse food he had with him.
"Why did you return my gun?" she asked.
"Was it a mistake?"
"What do you think?”
“I think in this country, man or woman needs a gun. If you want to use it on me, go ahead.”
“Why would you suggest such a thing?”
“Just watching how you’re holding it in your pocket right now."
She frowned. “Touching the gun just now was a nervous reaction, not an intention to shoot you.”
“Well, just make sure that nervous reaction doesn’t cause a twitch in your trigger finger. Might be you’d shoot yourself.”
She took her hand out of her pocket. “I know how to use a gun."
His smile was only half amused. “I saw.”
“I didn’t want to kill that man.”
“Never figured you did, but you did right. In this country, if you pull a gun, use it and make the first shot a good one. A bluff won't cut it." Chewing on the hardtack, he studied her face. “Were you in love with the man with you?"
"Martin?" she asked, a frown putting a little crease between her brows.
He nodded.
"He'd asked me to marry him."
"You said yes?"
"I obviously said no or I couldn't have said yes to you."
"What do you think you said yes to?” he asked.
There was a long silence. "What should I expect?" she asked not giving him the answer he wanted.
"You said you'd cook for me, keep house. What else?" He wanted to pull her into his arms, wanted to crush her against his chest, but he couldn't hold a woman like her that way. How could he hold her? “What else? What are you going to promise when you marry me? That you’ll kill me some night when I don’t do what you want? Run out your first chance?”
“If you thought that, why did you ask me to do it?”
Good question. He wasn’t willing to give her the answer to that just yet. “How long will you be with me?"
“Whoever knows something like that?”
He wasn’t satisfied but managed a shrug, handed her the canteen, then after she’d taken her drink, took his. He'd wanted a good woman, wanted a woman who would side him. He knew you didn't get any of that by pressuring one into marriage, but he didn't know how to go about it any other way. She would never have even stepped out for a walk with him in town. Now he had her, but what did he have?
Abigail watched with disapproval on her face as he pulled cigarette makings from his pocket, rolled one and lit it. "You’re smoking again,” she said all but holding her nose.
He took a long, satisfying drag on the cigarette. "Looks that way."
"It’s a dirty habit." Her tone indicated her disapproval as much as her words. He supposed he should have expected as much. Good women didn’t approve of a whole lot in life from the little he’d seen of them.
He nodded. "Does that mean the wedding's off, baby?" he asked, having just about decided maybe he'd be better off if it was. She was all but holding her nose. Not exactly the response he desired from her, but he wasn’t about to give up the cigarette. Nothing was working as he wanted. Ollie was right. He had made a fool of himself in taking her.
She got up from the ground, walked to the horses, and petted the nose of Belle. "Smoking is a bad habit."
"Most likely," he said, leaving the cigarette dangling from his mouth as he knelt to pick up the canteen and food sack. "And most likely it's not the only one."
She harrumphed. He looked away, but not before noticing the way her breasts pressed against her shirt. Good sized nipples was his guess. His body hardened.
"So, are we going to the mission or not?" he asked, rising, not removing the cigarette from his lips.
She scowled at him. Her thoughts frustrating her. Why did he have to ask? Why couldn’t he demand? He could leave her some ground to pretend, at least to herself. Of course, this was all happening for the mail bags, the important deeds; yet, she wouldn't doubt with enough persuasion she could talk him into telling her where those were without marriage or from the sounds of it anything else.
She heard an unusual bird sound from the tree and looked up to see a brightly colored red, black and white bird, almost parrot-like. "That's a pretty bird," she said-- any distraction to avoid the moment of truth.
