Comanche Moon (36 page)

“You’re good,” she said once, her eyes shrewd. “Even with that sore arm.” “It’s a good thing I’m right-handed.”

“Can you shoot with your left?” His eyes crinkled with amusement. “Passably well.”

“If I were you, I’d work on that one too.” He turned to look at her as she leaned against the trunk of a cottonwood that slanted over a small trickle of water. As he shoved more bullets into the cylinder of the Colt, he asked, “Why?”

“A man like you can’t afford not to be the best.” He knew, then, that she must know who he was. She’d never said. Nor asked. He felt a spurt of warmth for this quiet woman with calm green eyes and a peace that lent him strength.

“You’ll be going soon, won’t you?” she asked quietly.

He felt her eyes on him as he focused on the pistol. “I think so.” He slid the last bullet into an empty chamber and clicked the cylinder into place. “I’m almost ready.”

Unanswered questions hung in the air between them, and he knew she wouldn’t ask. He looked up at her. He owed her the truth. She’d given much, and asked nothing of him.

“My name is Zack Banning. The men who shot me and left me to die in the desert work for the man who has Deborah. She . . .” He paused, not knowing how to put it into words. She what? She was his woman? She was his life? He didn’t know. He didn’t know how to explain to anyone else what he’d never been able to explain to himself.

“She’s important to you,” Sally finished for him, and he flashed her a grateful glance.

“Yes. And I think she may be in danger.”

“Then you have to help her.”

“Yes.”

Zack turned back to the fence and the cans neatly arranged in a row. He felt a spurt of impatience. It was taking too long. He had to regain his complete strength and ability with a gun. Every day put Deborah in more danger, and he had no idea what had happened in his absence. He only hoped she was all right.

His legs bent slightly at the knee and his hand flashed down to the holstered gun tied low on his thigh, sweeping it up and out in a blur of movement. The air was filled with the sharp rattle of gunfire and the ping of tin cans flying off a fence rail.

He straightened and reloaded without looking at Sally. He could feel her gaze on him. His muscles were working again. Only traces of the stiffness remained. He looked up finally, and was startled by the slight sheen of tears in Sally Martin’s eyes. She cleared her throat.

“You’re ready to go.”

“Tomorrow.”

She nodded. “Take the horse. No, don’t protest. You can’t very well walk. And you can bring him back when you get another one.” Zack thought of his gray and hoped the stallion was still at the Double D. “We can take the wagon into town,” he said and saw a flash of relief in her eyes. “Yes. We can do that.” He lay in his bed in the barn that night and thought about Deborah. She was so different from Sally, with her cool poise and elegance of features. Sally was sturdy, a sensible woman with no frills or elegance to her. Yet she was as precious in her way as Deborah, and he felt a pang of regret that he would be leaving her behind. There had been nothing between them but a quiet companionship, but it had been healing and peaceful, and he’d needed that.

A faint smile curved his mouth as he had the thought that Deborah and Sally would probably be friends if they met under the right circumstances.

The wagon rolled to a halt in front of the general store, and Sally looked around. “It sure is busy here. I’ve never seen so many wagons unless it’s a Saturday.”

“Must be something going on. A funeral, maybe.” She laughed. “Or an election.”

“Sometimes that’s the same thing.” He set the brake on the buckboard and glanced at the crowded streets. He didn’t see anyone he knew yet.

“I usually go into San Ysabel,” Sally said when he looked back at her.

“Sirocco is a little farther away from my ranch.”

“I appreciate your bringing me here.” Her smile was wry. “I might need to hang around to haul you out again.” He leaped lightly from the buckboard, leaning in to tie the reins to the brake he’d set. “Let’s hope not. Come on. I’ll help you down.” Sally stood and leaned over, bracing herself with her hands on his muscled forearms as he lifted her down and swung her to the wooden sidewalk. She wore a sensible sunbonnet to shade her face, and the brim kept her eyes in shadow.

“Not only handsome,” she said with a forced laugh, “but a gentleman.

I’m going to miss you, Zack.”

“Handsome?” He laughed ruefully, touching his face with one hand. “I doubt my own mother would recognize me now.” She eyed him speculatively. “With your beard gone and a little meat on your bones, you’ve changed. I didn’t know you before, but if you looked as dangerous as you do now, it’s a wonder people didn’t avoid you.”

“They did,” he said grimly.

People passed them, and wagons rolled down the middle of the dusty street with noisy rattles. Sally studied him for a moment, then smiled.

“Would you like to help me with my shopping before you leave me? I could use a little advice.”

“Sure. As long as you aren’t talking about female gewgaws, I’m game.” She laughed, and tucked her hand over his forearm. “I would not dream of asking you for any advice on those. Not only would it be useless, but it would be embarrassing for both of us.” Zack laughed with her and let her draw him along toward Potter’s General Store. Sally had been generous and open with him, and he could tell that she didn’t want him to leave. He also knew she’d never admit it. She was not a woman to try to keep a man by tears and pleas. But it hurt him, nonetheless, to know that she’d come to depend upon him for companionship and would truly miss him.

Sometimes he’d seen her looking at him wistfully, a soft expression on her face and her lips trembling slightly. She would have been mortified if she’d known he recognized her emotions, and neither of them had mentioned it or allowed any awkwardness to mar their friendship.

Reaching around her, Zack pushed open the door to the General Store and held it for Sally. He let it close behind him with a jangle of the bell that announced new customers.

“Potter’s probably in the back,” he said as Sally began pricing a copper kettle. “I’ll see if I can find him.”

“Zack.”

He turned, brow lifted. She was holding out some greenbacks, and he stiffened. She colored hotly, and her voice was defensive.

“You earned it, helping me and all.”

“You fed me and gave me a place to sleep. Keep it. I don’t want your money.”

“Well, you should buy some new clothes. Marty’s don’t fit you that well.

You’re taller. And leaner.”

“They’ll do.” He relaxed slightly. “I appreciate it, but I can’t take your money.”

She sighed and slipped it back into her reticule. “I had forgotten how stubborn you can be.”

Grinning, he leaned down and kissed her smooth cheek. “A disastrous mistake.”

Sally tilted back her head, her sweet face lighting. “Yes. I’ll know better next time. I’ll trick you.” He laughed, and was still smiling when Mr. Potter came out from the back. The older man jerked to a halt, and his eyes grew big.

“Banning?” he whispered hoarsely, fixing Zack with a frightened stare.

“I heard you were dead.”

“Looks like you heard wrong,” Zack said coolly, letting his hand fall away from Sally’s arm.

Potter eyed him for a long moment. “You look different, somehow.”

“A couple of months older, maybe.” A rusty laugh echoed, but Potter didn’t look truly amused. He kept staring at Zack, and it was obvious he was uncomfortable.

“You still working for Diamond?” he asked after a moment of tense silence.

“Maybe.” Zack didn’t elaborate, and Potter didn’t ask. For a brief moment, he considered asking the older man what had happened between Diamond and Velazquez, and if Deborah was all right, but didn’t. He could find that out from the sheriff. He had every intention of pressing charges for attempted murder against Don Francisco, but he wanted to wait until the right time. If there was a chance Deborah would be hurt by it, he’d handle it another way.

“What can I do for you?” Potter asked finally, and Zack gestured to Sally. “She’s buying. I’m just looking.”

“Certainly. What may I help you with, ma’am?” Potter bent to help Sally with her purchases, and the murmur of their voices discussed the merits of different copper kettles.

Restless, and filled with a growing impatience, Zack moved to the store window and stared out at the street. He saw carriages roll past, and heard a burst of laughter from down the street. Even on Saturdays, Sirocco had never been this busy. He massaged his right arm, flexing and unflexing his fingers as he watched people pass.

Frank Albright rode past, his hat pulled low over his face, but unmistakable. Zack stiffened. Albright, the man Diamond used to run off squatters and even legal homesteaders. If he was in town, odds were, so was Diamond.

“What’s going on?” Zack asked when Potter had loaded Sally’s purchases into the newly purchased copper kettle and a cloth bag. He gestured to the street. “Town’s crawling with folks.”

“Most of them came to the wedding, I guess,” Potter said as he swung open the door, and the bell jangled loudly. “It’s a big to-do.”

“Wedding, huh.” Zack frowned. “Must be someone pretty important to make all this fuss.”

Potter was shoving the kettle into the buckboard, and he turned to Sally.

“Ma’am, if you want to drive your wagon around back, I’ll load up that other stuff for you.”

Zack broke in when Sally started to climb onto the seat. “I’ll do it. You go back in there and pick you out a new hat or a scarf, or something. You can’t come into town and not buy something pretty for yourself.”

“I’d rather you have the money.” His mouth curved into a smile. “Spend the money you were going to pay me.” He chucked her under the chin as if she was Sunflower. “Get me some candy, if you just have to buy me something frivolous.” Zack climbed onto the seat, took up the reins, and released the brake.

Then he clucked to the horse, and the buckboard jerked forward. He drove to the end of the street to go behind the stores, and was turning the corner when a burst of organ music caught his attention.

Glancing up, Zack saw the flurry of motion as people streamed down the shallow steps of the church on the corner and formed a double line. The bride and groom emerged from the old stone church and started down the steps. Zack pulled the wagon to a halt and stared.

Dexter Diamond, garbed in a dark suit and grinning ear to ear, had a possessive hand on the bride’s arm. She was dressed in a flowing yellow gown that billowed around her legs as she demurely descended the wide stairs.

Zack’s hands tightened around the leather reins, and he felt as if someone had just plunged a knife into his belly.

The bride looked up at her husband, her hair shimmering like dark fire in the press of sunlight, her pure, perfect face as pale and cool as a cameo. She turned gracefully, and with a gentle swing of her arm, she tossed a small bouquet of flowers into the air. There were squeals of surprise and delight, and then laughter when it was caught by a blond girl in the front.

Zack burned, but shivered with the effort to restrain himself. When the bride turned back, smiling, Diamond took her hand again to escort her down the last few steps. She lifted her skirts in one hand, and glanced up when someone called out to her.

Zack wasn’t surprised when she looked directly at him. The force of his gaze should have seared into her fickle, faithless soul. He met her gaze, saw her eyes widen with shock and her mouth open. It was the second time she’d had that reaction to seeing him, and he had the grim thought that it would be the last.

He saw her lips move to form the word Zack, then she slumped into a faint.

Chapter 23

A clock ticked loudly. Soft breezes lifted the curtains from the open window in a billowing cloud that caught Deborah’s attention. She sat stiffly, her hands twisting in her lap. She could hear Dexter ranging behind her like an angry lion, pacing the floor of his ranch house parlor.

He stopped behind her and put a hand on the back of her chair. “You married me,” he said flatly.

“Yes.”

“In a church before witnesses.” She looked up at him. “Before God. Yes, Dexter, I married you.” He spread his arms and gave her a baffled glare. “Then why? Why are you puttin’ me off?”

Deborah inhaled, her hands knotting into small fists in her lap. She looked down, saw that she’d wadded up her skirt and relaxed her hands.

“You agreed before we married that you would not rush me. You know what—what I’ve been through lately.”

“Is it Banning? Is he the reason?” Her gaze was clear and direct, her voice only slightly unsteady. “I did not know he was alive until after we were married. You know that.” Diamond’s hand gripped her shoulder. “And if you had? Would you still have married me?”

She stood up, and his hand fell away. “Did you marry me for love, Dexter? Because you cannot live without me?” He flushed, and his mouth tightened. “No,” he said roughly. “I was honest with you about that.”

“To a point. You said you wanted to marry me to gain part of the Velazquez lands, yes. But you also said you wanted me.”

“I do.” The look he gave her was unmistakable, and her eyes widened.

“And marryin’ you is the only way I can get you. You made that clear when you said you wouldn’t live in my house without vows.” She looked away from him. “There has been enough trouble. I’m grateful to you for rescuing me from Don Francisco. He would have killed me eventually, I’m certain of it.”

“Grateful.” Diamond said the word as if it soured his tongue. She looked back at him.

“I never hinted there was more. You said it was enough.”

“I thought it was.” His mouth tightened. “Ain’t no woman ever kept me at bay like you, Deborah. You may have married me, but I’m not the man you want.”

She waited, expecting him to bring up Zack again. Since seeing Zack watching her with that look of stunned disbelief she had gone over everything again and again, and had come to the same conclusion: She’d thought him dead, and had done what was necessary to survive.