Authors: Janette Kenny
Cowboy Come Home (22 page)
Now she wasn’t so sure that would happen. Even if it did, she deserved more than a marriage of convenience.
“Why did you come after me?” she asked.
“What kind of a question is that?”
“A fairly simple one.” If he loved her. Even if he just cared for her.
He shifted in the saddle, and even from this distance she could see his shoulders rack up tight. “I wasn’t going to sit by and let Ned steal my woman.”
“You make me sound like a possession,” she said. “My horse, my woman.”
He reined his mount around and trotted back until they were side by side. “Don’t go getting prickly on me now. I was your first lover, and I aim to be your only one.”
The sheer arrogance of that statement had her seeing red. “Why? Because we’re good in bed? Because I own two ranches and, silly me, I need a strong man to run them?”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “You’ve damned near bankrupted yourself.”
“The drought and Ned were against me,” she said. “And yes, I didn’t know what to do, but I intend to learn.”
“What are you saying, Daisy?”
What she’d been trying to tell this thick-headed man all along if only he’d listen. “If we marry, it’ll be because we are in love. There’s no other reason.”
“The hell there is.” He leaned forward and splayed a hand over her flat belly, shocking her, yet stirring the embers of desire too. “You could be in the family way, and I’m not about to let a child of mine grow up a bastard.”
“Do you think I couldn’t take care of a child by myself? Is that it? Are you afraid I won’t be able to be a mother any better than I was a ranch owner?”
He sighed long and loud, his fingers curling just the slightest bit on her belly so she felt the seductive pull of this man clear to her womb. My God, how could she love a man who was so dominating? How could she even want a man who was so set on taking everything she could give him yet giving so little of himself in return?
“Dammit, Daisy. I know the hell that being a bastard causes. What it does to a man inside when he’s growing up and knowing nobody gives a shit if he lives or dies.”
She flinched, her heart bleeding for the little boy he’d been, tossed out at birth and unloved by family. Unwanted by the folks who’d visited the orphanage looking for a child to adopt.
A bit of her own resolve crumbled right then and there.
Trey didn’t know about the child they’d created before. How she’d grieved over the loss. How she still woke at night clutching her belly and reliving that personal hell. How she blamed herself for losing that precious gift.
“You have to know it wouldn’t be like that,” she began, thinking of what she’d rehearsed to say to the life within her months ago.
Your daddy was a good man but there was no future for us. Doesn’t mean he didn’t love you. For he never knew you existed.
“Damned right it wouldn’t have. I’m not going to walk away and let you raise my child alone. I won’t give in on this, Daisy.”
And she knew he was telling the truth. That he’d never have left her before if he’d known she was in the family way. She suspected he might even grieve with her for that life they’d created in passion—she couldn’t call it love, for she was the only one who’d given her heart.
But it confirmed that Trey March was a good man. An honorable man. A man who accepted his responsibilities without complaint. Who had way too much pride and way too little forgiveness inside him.
“We’ll know if I am pregnant before long,” she said.
“Good. Just remember we also struck a separate deal regarding what Barton owed me. I’m not going anywhere.”
She shoved his hand from her, hurt that he’d bring that up now. “Of course we come back to what I owe you. Doesn’t really matter what I say, how I feel. My daddy owed you and I can’t pay up, so we are stuck together.”
He sat back in the saddle, his face as hard as the sunbaked desert that yawned forever around them. “I can’t change what was done. Your daddy made that deal with me. You agreed to honor it. You want me to forget about it?”
No! She wanted him to look inside his heart. To find that a part of him burned just for her. That she was more than the rich boss’s daughter.
She had to know she was more than a convenient lover. She had to know he couldn’t walk away from her. Not for money. Not for the land. Not for any past agreements.
She wanted to know he loved her. It was so simple.
So necessary to a woman who had been denied that special bond just like he had.
“No, but I won’t be the woman you
had
to marry,” she said. “I want as much respect and trust as you’d have afforded my brother.”
had
to marry,” she said. “I want as much respect and trust as you’d have afforded my brother.”
He visibly flinched at that. “I’ve got history with Dade. Long-standing history.”
She had history with him too, a life lost far too soon. A love in her heart that just wouldn’t die.
“Then marry my brother,” she said.
He smiled. An arrogant tilt of the lips that curved just enough to tempt her to follow suit, lips that she hungered to taste. It was hard not to lean forward. To hold herself back. Damned hard.
“You want to guess what your brother will say or do if he finds out we’re lovers?”
Her chin came up at that question. Yes, she had a brother. But he was apart from who she was now. He had no say in what she did or didn’t do.
“What I do with you is our business, not his.”
“You think he’s gonna see it that way?” he asked.
She got a firmer hold on her reins and backed up, just enough to let him know she could, just to distance herself a bit from the strong urge to give in to this cowboy. “Dade Logan has no say over what I do or don’t do. Remember that.”
His smile grew wider, almost like he was holding back a laugh that would rock the mountains. “Oh, I’ll remember it all right. You’ll learn that your brother is mighty protective of you.”
An image of her being in the same fix as Ava flashed through her mind again. Yes, she had no doubt that Dade would be just as overbearing as Egan Jarvis was to Ava. But unlike Ava, she didn’t have to bow to her brother’s demands.
“You’ll learn that I’m not about to take orders from him or you,” she said.
“That’ll only hold so far,” Trey said, his amusement disappearing in a blink. “If you’re pregnant, we’re going to get married right off. No haggling. No demands that I can’t make. You hear?”
Yes, she heard. And though she wanted to argue the point, she knew that in this she couldn’t. She wouldn’t put that burden on her child. She couldn’t push Trey out of their child’s life either.
“All right,” she said at last. “If I’m with child, I’ll marry you.”
He stared at her so hard she swore he was trying to read her thoughts. “You’ll tell me if you are. You won’t lie to me about this.”
Not questions, but she heard the pain and doubt in his voice, and it hurt knowing that he didn’t trust her. “I’ll tell the truth. I wouldn’t—”
She tore her gaze from his, unable to say it, for though she hadn’t lied to him before, she’d failed to tell him she’d missed her cycle. By the time she knew for sure, he was gone. And now ...
He nudged her chin up. “Daisy?”
She caught the glint of fear in his eyes and felt that kindred tug of emotion in her soul. She could voice what was in her heart. He couldn’t.
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” she said.
His smile was quick and brief. “Now that that’s settled, let’s get the hell out of here.”
He reined his horse around and broke into a trot. She urged her mare to do the same and vowed that when the time was right and they weren’t at each other’s throats, she’d tell him about the first life they had created together.
Chapter 19
The punishing sun was setting when the whistle from a train echoed over the vast plains, drawing nervous whickers from both horses. “Not much farther and we can rest for the night.”
Sweat slicked his back and his hatband was saturated. Daisy looked just as wilted, but she’d never voiced a complaint.
“Are we camping along the river?” she asked, a note of panic in her voice.
“Nope.”
“Thank God,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear her.
He supposed she was haunted by Ned’s murder at Jarvis’s hand. She likely was afraid the same would happen again.
The same thought had crossed his mind with every mile he put between the Lazy 8 and them. He’d pushed hard all afternoon and kept close watch in case Jarvis and his men set upon them.
Though they’d ridden in peace this far, there was the chance that Jarvis would track them anyway and strike at night. He damned sure didn’t want to go out the way Ned Durant had.
“Pecos is just over this ridge,” he said as the plume of black smoke from the locomotive lifted like a flag on a red-gold sunset. “We’ll take a room there tonight. It’s best we pass ourselves off as married in case Jarvis comes looking for us.”
She was silent for too long. “Won’t he suspect we’ll do that and look for Mr. and Mrs. March?”
“Maybe, but he damned sure won’t be looking for Mr. and Mrs. Morris.”
“But he’ll know we’re here by the horses.”
“I’ve got an old friend who will help us out there.”
An hour later, he’d left his horses with a man who’d worked for Kirby up until they were all run off the Crown Seven. Trey trusted the man to tell anyone who asked that he’d bought the horses from a cowpoke. That he didn’t know what had happened to him after that.
With any luck Jarvis would suspect that Trey and Daisy had boarded the train and were long gone. It was a damned tempting thought, but he knew she wouldn’t want to lose that mare, and the only way he could afford passage for them was to sell the horses.
Hell, maybe they’d be really lucky. Maybe Ava had talked sense into her brother and Jarvis had let them go as lost causes.
He hoped so, because he was tired of watching his back. Tired of worrying about how he could keep Daisy safe. Hell, he was worried now about how he could keep Daisy.
She wanted him to profess his love.
His insides cramped at the thought of spouting such words that held no meaning. Of flat-out lying to her.
Dammit, why did women have to wrap everything up in hearts and flowers? Why couldn’t they just take a man like he was?
He thought back to when he first met Daisy. She’d been a cute little flirt, casting shy eyes at him. But once they were alone, her shyness had evaporated.
Yep, she’d been a virgin. She hadn’t known anything about sex or how to please a man. She hadn’t known how he could pleasure her.
But she had learned damned fast.
Teach me,
she’d whispered in his ear.
Teach me,
she’d whispered in his ear.
The same tone she’d used when she’d asked him to teach her how to run a ranch. She’d thrown out a hoop twice, and he’d stepped into it both times.
The hell of it was he was obliged to marry her now, but she was holding out on him. This standoff couldn’t end well.
He dragged in a deep breath and blew it out. What the hell was he going to do with her?
The lady of the hotel stopped before a door on the second floor, seeming more than a bit uncertain about them. “I trust you will find the accommodations suitable. As my husband likely told you, meals are available in the hotel restaurant for another hour. If you prefer to take your meals in your room, I can have a tray brought up.”
“We’ll eat here,” Trey said. “My wife and I are mighty weary from our journey. Steaks if you have them. Anything on the side will do fine.”
The innkeeper’s wife turned to Daisy. “Toilet is down the hall. With this drought and all, hip baths are three dollars extra, payable in advance.”
“I’ll pass on the bath,” Trey said.
“So will I,” Daisy said, surprising him, though he was glad since he was nearly broke. “But I’d like to borrow a needle and thread to mend his shirt.”
“I can spare that.” She looked from Trey’s bloody sleeve to his battered face. “We run a quiet place here. Don’t stand for no tomfoolery. Mind if I ask what happened to you?”
“Got in a scuffle with a thief while we were traveling,” he said.
“There are still too many of them running wild in these parts,” the woman said.
He just nodded, not about to embellish his story. Daisy held her tongue as well.
“Dinner will be brought up directly.” The woman turned to Daisy. “I’ll find needle and thread for you as well.”
“Thank you.”
The woman left, closing the door quietly behind her. Daisy dropped onto the bed. “I’m so tired I could fall asleep standing up.”
“It was a long, hard ride.” One that was made more tiring by the fact that they hadn’t exchanged a dozen words since that standoff outside the village.
His ultimatum had played over and over in his head, sounding more domineering each time it crossed his mind. But he wouldn’t back down, even though she was more troubled now than before. Could she be with child?
Her gaze fixed on his arm. “Did he shoot you?”
“Got me with his knife,” Trey said. “Ava stitched it up.”
He saw her throat work and her face leach of color. “I imagine she’s had a good deal of experience tending such wounds.”
“Reckon so.” But not so for Daisy.
She’d never been exposed to the ugly side of life. Barton had pampered her. Treated her like a princess.
She’d been easy pickings for a man like Durant.
Easy pickings for a randy cowpoke to seduce. To tempt her to toss aside her morals.
Yep, she was too trusting.
Too nice for her own good, even now when she’d been put through hell.
A knock sounded at the door. He pulled his gun and crossed to it slowly. “Yes?”
“I’ve brought up your dinner,” the lady said.
He holstered his revolver and opened the door a crack. It was the lady. Behind her was a robust man bearing a tray covered with a linen. The aroma of fried steak wafting under Trey’s nose was proof the man was carrying their dinner.
“Smells mighty fine,” Trey said, and his guts rumbled in agreement.
“I hope you enjoy,” the lady said, coming inside the room.
The man followed her inside and headed straight for the lone table. He set the tray down, gave a nod and shuffled out.
“Here’s my sewing basket for your wife,” the lady said as she handed Trey a small wicker basket.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said.
“Yes, thank you,” Daisy said.
“If you need anything, let me know,” the lady said.
“We will.” He closed the door in the woman’s wake and carried the basket to Daisy. “Let’s eat.”
To his relief, Daisy joined him at the small table. Nothing more was said as they both dug into the meal.
“Take off your shirt,” she said when he’d finished shoveling in his meal. “I want to mend it tonight.”
They’d been as intimate as a man and woman could be, but he hesitated having her do something this domestic for him. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I know, but I want to.”
He shucked his shirt and handed it to her. Her brow furrowed as her gaze flitted from the dried blood that had turned his blue cambric black to the dirty red bandage on his upper arm.
“You lost a lot of blood,” she said.
“A fair amount.”
“I’ll see to that wound when I’m done.”
He nodded, unnerved by how domestic this all seemed with her stitching up his torn shirt and fretting over his wound. It’d been different when Ava saw to him.
“Just so you know, I don’t aim to make a habit of getting in scrapes,” he said, hoping to lighten the mood.
A tiny smile pulled at her mouth as she poked thread through a needle and set to sewing, her fingers sure and the stitches small and neat. “I suspect you’ve made that promise before to no avail.”
“Not intentionally.”
“Tell me about the others.”
He shifted from one foot to the other and jabbed his hands under his armpits. He’d never been one to talk about himself. Didn’t intend to start now. Yet he sensed this was important for her to know. For them to share.
“First time I used my fists was in the orphanage,” he said, the memory as clear as if it had happened yesterday. “One of the older boys took a dislike to Dade the day you and him arrived. Dade put up a helluva fuss when they took you away. But then you bawled the ceiling down as well.”
She stopped what she was doing and met his steady gaze. “I don’t remember any of that.”
“Just as well. This older boy, Hank was his name, was always picking on somebody and causing trouble.”
“On you as well?”
He nodded and walked to the window to draw the curtains and block out the world. “Hank pulled some mighty damned rotten tricks on me. Always was needling me because the orphanage had hung this name on me.”
“What was your real name?”
“Don’t know as I had one.” And when she just stared at him, he added, “I was left on the orphanage steps when I was a day old. Nobody claimed to have seen who brought me there.”
“How could a mother do that to her baby?” she asked, her face ghostly white in the dim light.
He shrugged, having asked himself that question too many times. The answer was always the same. “I wasn’t wanted. Hell, none of us in the orphanage were, but all of them knew why they’d ended up there. All of them knew their mothers’ names at least. I know it’s hard for you to understand—”
“Oh, but I do understand. I have so few memories of my own early life and all of those start when I was seven years old. Even then there are holes.” She bent and set to working the stitches through the bloody cloth. “Go on with what you were saying about this bully who taunted my brother.”
He scrubbed a hand over his mouth and thought back to that day when his life had changed for the better. “All the orphans took their meals in this big mess hall, but they kept the boys and girls on opposite sides of the room.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know.” There were a lot of rules that had made no sense to him then or now. “We were in line to get our trays. Christmas Day, though all that amounted to was getting an apple and a piece of hard candy on our tray. Reid was first, then Dade behind him. Hank was after him, and I was at the end.”
He snorted. Hell, he was always pulling drag.
“Dade saw you, and you cried out for him. So he stepped out of line to go to you, which was likely natural for him. Hank got riled because when one boy misbehaved, all those nearest him got punished. So he jerked Dade back in line, but instead of falling into place, he knocked him right into Reid. The tray Reid had just got filled along with the poor fare flew everywhere.”
“So you all got reprimanded for that?”
He laughed, a deep release that he hadn’t let go in years. Damn odd that this was a cherished memory for him.
“Nope, we got punished for the ruckus that commenced then and there. Reid saw this head butting as the last straw. He whirled and threw the first punch. Knocked Hank into me, which pissed off the boys behind me. So they shoved me into Hank. After that it was a free-for-all.”
She frowned and finished the last few stitches, the silence lending a crackle of tension to the room. Did she believe him? Was she troubled that her brother got whipped good for trying to protect her?
“What did I do while all this was going on?” she asked, genuine worry in her tone.
“Don’t know, Daisy. Those matrons herded the girls out mighty fast. Next thing I knew Reid, Dade, and I were locked in the shed out back.”
“But it was winter!”
Colder than biddy-blue hell. “That was part of the punishment. Missing out on dinner, the rare treat of candy and fruit, and a warm place to sleep.”
“All because of me,” she said, tears swimming in her eyes.
His grin vanished, and that hard veneer he had built around himself cracked a bit more. Shit, the last thing he wanted her to feel was guilt.
He knelt in front of her and took her small hands in his. “Daisy, you did us a favor.”
“How?” she asked, her voice trembling. “You all ended up hurt and segregated because I was such a baby.”
He couldn’t help it. He laughed, and that surely made her stiffen up on him.
“There is nothing funny about what happened,” she said.
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