Always You (16 page)

“I can do that.” He nodded. “Reckon there’s no reason she should have to keep worrying about you. You’ll be going home soon enough.”

With that they stared at each other. There was nothing left to say. Jesse glanced from one to the other of them, then shook his head as Melora suddenly turned and strode across the grass toward the house.

Squinting against the hot sunshine, Cal stared after her thoughtfully.

“She ought to come to the barbecue with the rest of us,” Jesse spoke up, kicking a log.

“You heard what the lady said.”

“Just think. You’d have a chance to dance with her.”

“What makes you think I want to dance with her?”

Jesse snorted. “Anyone can see by the way you look at her that you’d want to dance with her—and a whole lot more,” he added with a grin “Cal, come on. You know there’s ready-made dresses in Deadwood. Some real pretty ones.”

“I figured that.”

“Want me to go into town and pick one out for her?”

Hefting an armful of logs, Cal started toward the house. “Reckon that’s something I can do for her myself,” he drawled so casually Jesse’s grin widened.

“Sure, Cal,” he said, following with the rest of the firewood. “After all, she’s your girl.”

“Not yet she isn’t,” Cal muttered under his breath, so low his brother almost didn’t catch the words.

But he knew by the set of Cal’s shoulders and the firm expression in his eyes that for the first time his big brother had set his sights on a particular woman.

And what a woman. Leave it to Cal to pick someone as pretty and feisty as Melora Deane.

But when Cal set his mind to something, he usually got it.

Jesse, who had his own eye on fourteen-year-old Dee O’Malley, whistled as he followed Cal home.

No one seemed to notice when Cal left the farm that afternoon. Cassie asked Melora to help her bake a pie to bring to the barbecue, and this they did, while Louisa and Will played tag out beyond the vegetable garden and later sprawled on the rug with the checkerboard. Jesse trudged in eventually after seeing to the cows and chickens and horses. Covered with sweat and dust from a full day of work, he announced his intention to head for the stream for a swim and a bath.

“Going to get yourself all prettied up for Dee O’Malley?” Louisa teased, with the impish grin that brought out her dimples.

“What makes you think that?” he retorted, coloring up furiously.

“I know you’re sweet on her. Just like Cal’s sweet on—” She broke off, clapping a hand over her mouth as her gaze flew to Melora.

Cassie, setting the baked pie on the windowsill to cool, threw her little sister a woeful look.

“Don’t you go telling tales on Cal.” She sounded far more grown-up than her nine years. “And you’re embarrassing Melora. That’s not polite. She’s our guest.”

“No, she isn’t,” Louisa declared stoutly, her eyes still sparkling. “She’s Cal’s girl.”

“I am not Cal’s girl,” Melora said firmly. “He doesn’t even like me much,” she added with a dry laugh and a shrug of her shoulders meant to appear breezy and unconcerned.

“Oh, yes, he does,” everyone chorused. Even Jesse, who paused in the doorway to give her one of his lightning-bolt grins.

“How can you tell?” Melora despised the blush flooding her cheeks but didn’t have a clue how to stop it. “I mean, if he’s never had a girl before—”

“We can tell,” Will chimed in, nodding sagely, and everyone laughed in perfect agreement.

* * *

Cal rode into Deadwood on alert for any signs of danger. But when he checked again at the Glory Hotel, as he had that morning, he was told that no one named Rafe Campbell had yet registered there.

He even checked under the name Wyatt Holden, on the chance that Campbell was playing some kind of game, but the clerk shook his head at this too. The weasel simply wasn’t there.

He’d come, though, and soon. Cal was dead certain of it.

Campbell wouldn’t let him get away with stealing Melora Deane right out from under his nose. His pride alone wouldn’t tolerate it.

And that pride, that arrogance,
Cal thought as he entered the general store,
is what’s going to bring him down.

Melora’s slender golden image kept dancing into his mind’s eye as he looked over the available store-bought dresses. She’d look good in any one of them, he thought, picturing her vibrant face, the rich fall of sunshine hair, her firm breasts filling out the bodice of each one of the various gowns Mrs. Hamilton displayed for his perusal. Actually, he concluded, his muscles taut as he remembered the delicate, tantalizing feel of her in his arms, she’d look good in all of them, be they calico, silk, or twill.
Hell, Melora could tempt a preacher even when she’s only wearing my old flannel shirt and denims three times too big for her.

But she’d look even better in nothing at all, Cal decided, suppressing a grin as he pointed to the dress he wanted.

Not that I’ll ever see her that way.

He didn’t notice how the eyes of several young women in town followed him about the store as he made his purchases. He was oblivious of the admiration and the blatant invitation some of them showed as they smiled at him or deliberately bumped into him, attempting to start up a conversation.

Cal knew only that Melora Deane was dominating his thoughts more and more when he ought to be thinking about her less and less. He ought to be reviewing and analyzing his plan, working out all the possible hitches, eliminating any potential mistakes.

There was the timing to think of. Marshal Brock’s presence at his showdown with Campbell was crucial. But though he’d sought Brock out at his home on the outskirts of Deadwood on two occasions, he’d been turned away both times by the housekeeper, who informed him that the marshal was not there.

Cal couldn’t afford to make his move without Brock. Even when Campbell showed up, he’d have to hold off until everything was in place for the confession.

This all had to be done just right.

So quit thinking about Melora and start thinking about getting Campbell exactly where you want him.

He forced his thoughts to focus on his plan as he paid for his purchases and carried them out of the store. As he galloped Rascal east toward the farm, leaving the dusty, crowded streets of Deadwood behind, another rider entered the town from the west.

Coyote Jack spit into the street as he impassively studied his surroundings. With his hat pushed back and his bandanna loose around his neck, his hawklike eyes scanned up and down the streets for some sign of his prey.

He paid no heed to the cloud of dust at the far edge of town, a dust cloud kicked up by a horse and rider too far distant to be clearly seen, headed at a fast gallop into the dense green of the hills.

His gaze pierced the face of every man he saw, and every woman. He knew that sooner or later he would recognize the faces of the two people he’d been hired to find.

He was skilled at his job, and years of success had given him a sure, swaggering confidence. He knew he would find them. It was only a matter of time.

* * *

By the time Cal returned home, Melora had settled herself in a chair with Lou and a spelling primer on her lap. Patiently she was helping the girl with her lessons. She stayed right where she was as Cal came through the door, hefting several large packages.

“You went to town?” Cassie ran forward in surprise. “Deadwood or Cherryville?”

“Deadwood.” He set the packages down on the kitchen table.

“What for? Part of your plan, Cal?”

“Nope. Nothing to do with that. I went to buy presents.”

“Presents!” Louisa squealed, and the joy on her face as she jumped from the chair and raced toward the table reminded Melora of Jinx on her birthday when Pop would come in with a pile of presents for her. She turned her head so that no one would see the tears misting in her eyes.

“Did you get one for me?” Lou cried, her little hands trembling over the pile of packages, not knowing which one, if any, was for her.

“Yep. And for everyone else too. Simmer down, Lou, and you’ll get yours first.”

He had bought Lou and Cassie each some ribbons for their hair, a brightly colored spinning top, and a bag of peppermints. For Will there was a windup tin man and a shiny new whistle and several sticks of licorice. Cal handed Jesse a dark blue silk neckerchief. There were grins all around, gasps of delight, hugs, yippees, and thank-yous.

Then Cal reached for the largest parcel, a long white box.

“Who’s that for?” Lou demanded. Then suddenly her gaze flew to the gold-haired young woman who’d been watching the proceedings and murmuring happily over everyone’s good fortune.

“Melora,” she said. “The biggest present is for Melora!”

“Hush.” Jesse poked her arm lightly, his gaze fixed with satisfaction on Melora’s astonished face.

Melora felt everyone staring as Cal held the box out toward her. She regarded him blankly. “It isn’t really for me,” she stated flatly.

“Well, I reckon it won’t fit Jesse.”

To her discomfort the children chortled and elbowed one another. Silently she took the box from him, her heart pounding, though she tried to appear calm. As she lifted the lid, white tissue paper rustled. She pushed it aside and lifted out a dress so light and pretty her heart skittered and a sweet gladness rushed up inside her.

The dress was perfect. It was the glorious blue of summer flowers, a soft buoyant blue, with a low-cut neckline frilled by zigzag white lace. Black piping and lace frothed at the tight-fitting sleeves, and a single row of jet buttons marched primly down the front, contrasting with the sensuously full and graceful skirt.

It was a lovely dress, as simple and charming as the larkspur growing in profusion on the hillsides.

“You bought this for me, Cal?” she asked. The room suddenly felt hot and close.

“Reckon I didn’t steal it.” His sardonic grin flashed when she threw him an exasperated look. “See here, Melora, we can’t have you staying home while everyone else goes to the barbecue. It wouldn’t be right.”

For a moment she didn’t hear the excited babble and laughter of the children and was oblivious of Jesse’s ear-to-ear grin. All she saw was Cal standing across the table from her, his green eyes no longer cold as creek water. They gleamed into hers with a warm, quiet intentness that made her skin grow hot, and her pulse flutter.

“I accept—with thanks,” she murmured, and he nodded.

“You ladies had best start getting ready for this shindig,” Cal said gravely. “Or we’ll be late, and all the pies will be gone.”

“They will not,” Louisa retorted tartly, but she skipped off, clutching her ribbons and her top, followed by Cassie with the bag of peppermints, while Melora carried her lovely dress toward the second bedroom.

She glanced back once, suddenly feeling that she hadn’t thanked Cal properly for this extravagant and very thoughtful gift, but he was gone, he and Jesse and Will, probably to wash up at the pump and change their clothes in the barn, and she was left to ponder why he’d gone to the expense and trouble of buying her this dress.

Because he wanted her to go to the barbecue.

So that he could dance with her?

A shiver of hope tingled through her. Perhaps Cal wasn’t quite as impervious to her charms as he would have her believe.

The idea of dancing with him stirred something deep and delicious inside her, something a woman who’d been on the verge of marrying another man shouldn’t feel.

We’ll see,
she muttered to herself as she closed the bedroom door and tenderly laid the dress across the bed, studying its pretty lines and fancy trim.
It appears to me we’ll just see about everything, Mr. Wyatt Calvin Holden.

The night was abloom with stars. Festive music and merriment rocked through the lantern-festooned yard behind the rambling O’Malley farmhouse, where a half dozen families in their Sunday best laughed and mingled and danced to the tune of three fiddlers beneath a velvet sky and a burnished yellow moon.

The O’Malleys were warm, welcoming people. Quinn O’Malley was the red-haired, stern-eyed father of seven whose great height and girth were a direct contrast with his dainty, tinkly voiced wife. When Jesse introduced him to Cal, he pumped Cal’s hand, took his measure with a shrewd, flashing glance, and invited him and his “missus” to make themselves at home.

“My Fiona hasn’t stopped baking in three days,” he declared, shaking his head. “So each one of you had better eat at least four slices of pie. Especially you, ma’am, since I hear you’re eating for two,” he told Melora with a slight bow.

“Ah, there she goes blushing. My Fiona stopped blushing after the third one came down the pike. Now let me introduce you folks to some of our neighbors. If you don’t meet ‘em now, you most likely won’t get the chance for quite a spell. Once winter sets in up here, we won’t none of us be seeing much of each other till the spring thaw.”

If any of the neighbors to whom he introduced them thought it strange that Cal, the oldest brother and the one responsible for his siblings, had been away for some time and was just settling down in the area, having left Jesse alone to run the farm and look after the younger brothers and sisters, they gave no sign of it. The O’Malleys drew Cal and Melora easily into the friendly group, made up mostly of other farmers from the vicinity.

Dr. Wright was also in attendance at the party, and upon meeting up with the Holden family, he stared hard at Melora and stroked his white whiskers. “You’re looking mighty fit, ma’am. Feeling a bit calmer than you were t’other day, are you?”

“Why, yes,” Melora responded smoothly, not meeting Cal’s eyes. “I am feeling ever so much better. We were all so concerned about Louisa that I quite lost my head and forgot to worry about my own condition. But fortunately my husband thought clearly enough for both of us.”

Dr. Wright appeared quite interested in her tiny waistline, accented by the cut of the blue dress. He was trying hard, without it appearing so, to discern any sign of pregnancy in the fair, slender creature before him, but Cal distracted him from his professional scrutiny by clapping a hand on the doctor’s shoulder and turning the older man to face him instead.

“I’m fairly certain that the baby is going to be a girl, Doctor, the spitting image of her lovely mother here. Heard it told that when a woman scarcely shows there’s a bun in the oven, it means for sure the baby’s going to be a girl. What do you say, Dr. Wright?”

“There’s no telling, young man. That’s just an old wives’ tale,” the doctor retorted with some scorn, but before he could continue his examination of Melora or ponder the issue further, Cal swept her up around the waist and whisked her off to dance, leaving the doctor scratching his head as he gazed after them.

“You’re quite skilled at telling bald-faced lies,” Melora noted as he spun her into the crowd of brightly clad dancers.

“Had to learn a lot about lies lately—just to survive.” Cal’s expression was harsh. The bitterness she saw in his eyes made her regret the teasing remark. “I’ll be glad when this whole damn thing is over, Melora. When my family doesn’t have to hide out on a farm in Dakota Territory, because the folks they knew back home in Arizona came to look down on them and think their brothers had turned into no-good outlaws. And I’ll be especially glad when justice catches up to Rafe Campbell and he’s paid the price for what he’s done.”

“You still haven’t explained exactly how you’re going to make him pay—what you’ll do to get his confession when he finally gets to Deadwood.”

“That’s right, I haven’t.”

“Well, it’s time you did. You’re not the only one who has a stake in this now.” Melora leaned back in his arms and gave him a long, level look. Between the moon and the lantern light her eyes were the color of tea. “I have a few choice words to speak to Mr. Rafe Campbell myself.”

“You’ll have to get in line, Melora. This is my plan, and I get the first shot at Campbell when he shows up.”

Her eyes sparked fire. “A tempting choice of words.”

“They’re only words. I can’t afford to shoot him—at least not right away.”

“Just so long as I get my turn.” She stuck her chin up, and her hand tightened on his as they danced. “Promise me that much.”

“I can’t promise you anything, Melora.” Cal whirled and dipped her with ease, his eyes fixed coolly on her face. If he didn’t care much for dancing, that didn’t stop him from being good at it she noted with reluctant admiration. “Life isn’t always easy, and it doesn’t always go according to plan.”

“You don’t have to tell me that.” She flung the words back at him irritably.

Who was he to tell her that things didn’t go according to plan? All her own plans for the future had gone up in smoke, and she was left with nothing, nothing but worry for Jinx and the ranch, a dull sense of humiliation at her own gullibility, and a burning need to fire buckshot into Rafe Campbell’s backside.

And there was something else that hadn’t gone according to plan. Tonight she’d planned to stun Cal Holden when she came out of her room to take his arm for the barbecue, to dazzle him dizzy when he saw her in this dress.

But it hadn’t happened.

After coaxing Louisa’s and Cassie’s tresses into pretty topknots and helping them wind their new ribbons through the strands, she’d worked carefully for the better part of an hour on her own hair, brushing it until it shone like wildfire and dressing it in tight, perfectly coiled curls to frame her face. She’d taken a few tucks and nips in the gown, studying it assessingly until she was convinced it fitted her figure to perfection, and she’d donned the silk stockings and satin shoes she’d packed for her honeymoon. She’d set creamy pearl earbobs on her earlobes. And stroked flower-laced French perfume at her throat and between her breasts. She’d
thought
she looked rather beautiful in all that finery, at least beautiful enough to attract Cal’s notice. And perhaps even to draw a compliment from him.

But Cal had scarcely batted an eye when she’d walked out of the bedroom, well aware of everyone watching her.

“We’re late,” he’d said in that brusque way of his, and had taken Cassie’s arm instead of hers, leaving Melora trembling with angry disappointment as she headed out to the buggy alongside Jesse.

Now I know why he’s never had a girl,
she told herself irately as the dance came to an end.
He no more knows how to treat a woman than a dog knows how to climb a tree.

As the music stopped, they glared at each other. “I believe I’ll sit down,” Melora announced airily, and Cal touched two fingers to his hat.

“Suit yourself.”

After he watched her walk away, he drank down a cool glass of elderberry wine and then stalked to the edge of the O’Malley yard. Plunging off into the darkness beyond the farm buildings, he sought the open solitude of the night.

Behind him the music drifted, faint and rousing on the breeze. He felt removed from the gaiety of the barbecue, locked inexorably in the tangle of his own dark thoughts.

It was damn near impossible to be near Melora and not want to touch her, to wind his hands through her hair and pull her into his arms. And though Cal had learned patience the hard way, sitting in a bug-infested five-foot jail cell day after day, waiting to hang for a crime he hadn’t committed, framed by an enemy he’d thought was a friend, tonight he had no patience for anything. Both his calm, and his facade of detached control were fraying ragged. He was beset with a driving ache that couldn’t be soothed or calmed or pushed aside.

When Melora had glided out of the bedroom tonight wearing that amazing blue dress, he’d had to fight like hell not to go to her, pick her up in his arms, and carry her right back in there, to lay her down on the bed and make love to her until dawn. She’d looked enchanting. And he’d wanted her, every silken inch of her. The delicate beauty of her face had beckoned to him, the curve of her lips had mesmerized him. Hell, he’d started to sweat just noticing the way her pearls gleamed at the base of her pretty little earlobes.

And the lushness of her body had been apparent in that splendid dress; it had cried out to a primal part of him. Begging to be touched. To be kissed. To be claimed.

She’d looked like a floating blue vision, alluring as the sea, and every bit as unpredictable and seductive.

What’s stopping you?
he asked himself angrily.
If you want her, why don’t you just go after her, claim her, see what lies behind that smile she gives you sometimes, if she feels as much as she seems to the times you
have
kissed her or held her in your arms?

But something kept him back. Two things, really. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself. Many were the men who had probably made fools of themselves over Melora Deane, and his pride argued against letting himself be added to that list.

And there was something else.

The woman was grieving, whether she realized it or not. She’d lost the man she loved. She’d found out her fiancé was a fraud, that his name wasn’t even Wyatt Holden after all.
And now,
Cal told himself, staring out at the great gleaming burnishment of the moon, at the sky that stretched above him to infinity,
it would be a low-down thing to pursue her when she was confused and hurting. And vulnerable.

When she might not know exactly what she wanted, or what she was doing, or even care with whom.

It wouldn’t be right, and it wouldn’t be fair. And after everything he’d put her through already, he couldn’t stomach the notion of taking advantage of her.

But damn it all to hell.
Cal closed his eyes for a moment, letting the cooling wind fan his hot face.
It was sheer hell to resist her.

It didn’t help that he’d noticed every man at this barbecue eyeing her. He couldn’t blame them. If things were different...

Hell,
he told himself, opening his eyes and turning back to stare hard in the direction of the festivities.
For tonight, just for tonight, things are different. You’re playing a role. She’s supposed to be your wife. Your pregnant wife. If you don’t get back there and start paying some attention to her—just for show—it might attract notice. And talk.

He couldn’t afford that, not now when he was so close to bringing his plan to a successful conclusion.

Go back and dance with her. Talk, laugh. Try to behave normally and keep the gossipmongers at bay.
It was the sensible thing to do.

He stuck his hands in the pockets of his neatly pressed gray trousers and started back toward the house.

* * *

“Shh. Here he comes,” Louisa warned, tugging on Will’s arm as he capered beside her in the O’Malley parlor, chattering nonstop.

“Hush up, Will!” Swallowing hard, Cassie fixed him with her sternest glance. “Hush up this instant or he’ll hear you!”

The other guests were swarming toward the feast-laden long tables lined up in the dining room, and no one was paying the least heed to the three young Holden children.

“Cal! Cal!” Louisa darted toward him as he skirted around a buxom young brunette who flashed him an encouraging smile. Trying hard to school their faces, Cassie and Will ran after her.

Cal frowned down at Louisa when she tugged at the bottom of his black silk vest. “Quick, Cal! You have to help her!”

“Help who? Louisa, what’s wrong?”

Lou’s eyes were as huge and round as pennies. “Melora!” she cried. “She’s gone off crying. She won’t talk to anyone. ‘And we can’t get her to come out.”

“Come out of where?”

“The barn.” Cassie gazed up at him woefully. “She’s sad and upset. Jesse tried to get her to come out, and so did I—”

“And so did I!” Will chimed in, his little cheeks red with excitement.

Cal looked from one to the other of them. “Locked herself in the barn?” he repeated blankly. “Why would she do a fool thing like that?”

“Because she’s upset.” Cassie stamped her foot. “I don’t know, Cal, but she was crying real hard—”

“You’d better be telling me the truth.” His suspicious glance flicked over each of them, assessing Louisa’s openmouthed dismay, Cassie’s quiet distress, the restless shifting of Will’s small feet.

“Show me where she is.” Tension twisted through his gut as he thought of Melora so distraught she was sobbing alone in the O’Malleys’ barn.

Was it because of the way he’d treated her tonight? He’d hardly been sociable when they’d been dancing, and then he’d all but deserted her. But there could be something more to it than that. She might be upset over Rafe Campbell, he thought, stabbed by a sharp, incisive pain. Or maybe she was missing her little sister.

Whatever was going on, he had to find her, help her.

“Hurry up, you slowpokes,” he urged as he led the little group outside once again. Everyone else was trooping inside in search of supper, but Cal, Cassie, Lou, and Will made their way through the soughing wind toward the shadowy outline of the farm’s outbuildings.

“It’s not this barn, the new one—it’s the next one—the old barn,” Will sputtered as he tried to keep up. “That one up ahead.”

Jesse stepped out of the shadows as the group raced up to the weathered old structure, but he gave Cal no chance to ask him any questions.

“Quick, you’ve got to do something. She’s in real bad shape,” he told Cal.

Deirdre O’Malley materialized right beside him. In that instant Cal saw that she was a pretty, freckle-faced girl whose strawberry blond hair was coiled in one smooth braid, but before he could do more than nod a greeting to her and then turn toward the old dilapidated barn with its weathered shingles, Jesse suddenly slid the bolt back on the barn door and promptly shoved Cal inside.

“What the hell?” Even as he wheeled around, the door slammed shut, and he heard the bolt rattle into place.

“Jesse! Jesse, what the hell did you do that for?” Cal stopped yelling and whipped around toward the barn’s interior when he heard a sound from the hay-scented blackness.